Mind games
by I'm-suffering-cyber-boredom
Summary: In a world where you can trade sanity for life and cures for terminal illnesses (and vice versa) Arthur kirkland tells you the story that he and his childhood friend, Alfred. F Jones, shared through their high school, college and later life. Usuk, rated T for swearing, triggers and sexual references.
1. Chapter 1

Part one, chapter one

_How hurtful it can be to deny one's true self and live a life of lies just to appease others."_  
_― June Ahern_

Compared with how it used to be, I would say my life has become quite dull. So, occasionally, while I'm alone in my office, arms propped up on my desk as my elbows dig into the wood, I start to reminisce. I start to remember my time in high school, mainly, my last year. Now, all the business with the trades are long gone, and the very thought of them are tossed behind my back like a candy wrapper.

That being said, I still long to return to some of some of those moments, maybe out of nostalgia, maybe I want to change some of the stupid choices I made back then. Either way, I find myself drifting back into the part of my brain which harbours the memories, and smiling lightly, at even the most morbid of the situations I had found myself in.

I'm nobody special, and my life is even less so. Time ticks slowly on for me, just as it does for you, and everybody around you, and just like you, the ticking of the clock is deafening to me. So, let us procrastinate together, I'll tell you my story, as you waste some of your own.

* * *

If I had to choose where to start, which I do, I would say this is a pretty good place to begin. It involves myself, walking around the vast corridors of my old high school, with a pile of folders stacked high in my arms and tucked under my chin so that they could be stable. The tiles that covered the walls of the clogged hallway were a bright, sparkling white, polished to a point that you could see around every corner, as if they were mirrors.

Some of the students thought that was so teachers could see you around the corner, if you had attempted to bunk off you're classes. The truth, I'm sure, is that the school cleaner had a lot of time on his hands. Anyway, so I was trying to balance the folders in my arms when I look in front of me, and see the reflection of two girls outside the classroom I had been heading to.

At first I just grumbled in annoyance, before leaning onto the wall that was just to my right, in attempt of giving my arms the slightest rest. As I didn't have anything better to do, as I stood there I let myself drift into the conversation between the girls.

"Did you hear?" one of them asks, her head slightly tilted to the side "Alfred f. Jones did a trade,"

The way she had said it made it sound like top secret information, in a sort of stage whisper, covering her pink painted lips with four of her fingers to that nobody could read her lips. The way she held her self was somewhat snobbish, and her friends reaction to the news did not help bring her ego down. "ehhh?" the other had replied, casting her head back slightly as if she didn't believe it for a moment "You're kidding me, right? Golden boy?"

The first girl smirked in triumph "no, no seriously! His mom had cancer remember?" she had raised her voice to say that, probably believing it would help get her point across- it didn't. To anybody passing by, and myself, it was just plain shocking how the other had not known about the biggest news at the school around that time. She twists her voice into a sympathy clad tone, while fidgeting with the slight muck under her manicured nails "She's really young too, so he traded a half of it for her... heroic, as always, right?"

"Yeah, I guess that is super Alfred like... but a half? Is that even legal?"

And that's when I step in, finally losing patience with their ignorance. Being the student council president- and the friend of Gilbert- I had been hearing the same thing over and over. The same question, 'is 50% even legal?' and I suppose it was due to the lack of information schools give their pupils about trades, but being from the background I was, at the time I thought it was all common knowledge.

Stepping forward from the corner I leant on, I gain their attention by saying "It is." With my usual serious glare. They look at me bemused, un aware I had been listening into their conversation, and so, after an irritated huff I carry on "it's legal to trade up to 80% of your mental health," I explain "it's not a big deal, either, nothing more than an obvious rumour, that holds no point in talking about it."

Impatiently, I push past the two girls before they reply, not being bothered to retaliate, biting the inside of my cheek. I enter the room, which was slightly chilly due to the open window at the side of the teacher's desk. Ignoring the people who already occupied the room, I head over to that very corner, where the teachers paper work was fluttering under the weight of staplers and whole punchers. After tossing the stack of files onto the floor beside the desk, I head towards my own, falling back lazily onto the hard plastic chair which had been vaguely positioned in front of it. Though it doesn't sooth the ache of my mussels, it does help me to relax ever so slightly.

For the following days, I found myself quelling any gossip about Alfred that anyone dared to speak, telling myself how much their ignorance got on my nerves. Occasionally, I saw the boy himself pass me in the halls, he always looked happy, a content smile on his face, like he didn't hear the whispers around him. I wondered if he did, I had even begun to convince myself he didn't until that time in the classroom, in the middle of dinner time when I had nothing else to do.

It had been a cloudy day, and I think at the time there was a slight patter of rain at the window beside me. Because of it, the school had been extra cramped with students trying to find something to do. The air was moist and sticky, I had even discarded my blazer out of the discomfort.

I had cast a sly eye over to my right, to see seven or so teenagers beside me, who had been ignorant to my presence –not that I wanted them to acknowledge me- and the sight hadn't surprised me much. You must have known people like them at your school, the group with the aura of blue bloods, who don't give you the time of day unless you were utterly flawless. It never really bothered me though, so I can't complain about them as much as I disliked their very existence.

What caught my attention, though, was the fact they were talking about Alfred, much like the girls out in the hallway, but the difference here being that the golden boy was actually sat with them, laughing along with their petty jabs about the subject. After listening in for a moment or two, I decided I was not interested in what they were doing; and so looked out the window beside me, but kept my ears tuned in, just in case anything they said spiked my interest.

"So, what?" a boy smirked, his leg perched on the desk he was using as a seat, "You bat shit crazy now al?" The people around him laughed in chorus. I'm pretty sure I could hear Alfred laughing too, as it was very distinguished compared to the rest of their giggles. Sadder, uncertain, almost pathetic.

Before I had time to ponder over this, a girl perked up , her voice was nasal and high, incredibly annoying "yeah, half is so much," her comment was stupid, in consequential, but the people rung around her acted like it was a life changing sentence, nodding a long. A moment later and everybody was discussing among their selves what they thought of the situation, and throwing stupid jokes out like they were nothing.

"Yeah... yeah something like that…" Alfred replied, though his voice was drowned out by the stupid laughter of his peers.

The view outside the window beside my desk was, to a certain point, my favourite thing about school at that time. The sky had always seemed to be tinted amber as if someone had melted gold and stirred it into the sky with a wooden spoon, until the colours began to blur. There were no buildings, as the school was on the edge of town, but instead it was a view of farmlands. As always, I had been trying to absorb myself into the sight, even if tuned in to the conversation beside me, but I had become un nerved, fidgety.

That's why I ended up burying my mouth into the palm of my hand, so that the shaky voice was somewhat lost but still audible, as I said "I-it shouldn't matter whether or not he did a trade. W-why don't you m-mature a little,"

Though my eyes were in the opposite direction, it was obvious all of the gazes of the kings and queens had fell on me, the stupid little beggar who had come to challenge their rule. It was rare, even for me, for anyone to speak up about the people inside the circle. If this had been a different time, a different topic, they would have just told me to go piss of back to England or some crap like that, but now the room had fallen silent, and it was like I had been completely secluded.

Finally someone spoke up, it was same boy as before "the fucks it got to do with you?" it was practically spat in my direction, I felt sorry for those seated in front of him, as they would have received a face full of saliva.

Putting on a brave face I looked back at the group, and gulped "Actually, my father doctors Alfred's mother in her ill state, and I know for a fact-" a little white lie on my behalf- "that no such trade occurred, now stop being such brats, would you kindly?"

My father did indeed doctor Miss Jones, but in no way would I have received information like that. The only reason I know of this is because I regularly visit my father at work, and apparently so does Alfred, we often ran into each other, although I don't know if he ever realised it was me.

The whole group groaned in annoyance, it had been a Monday and I doubt any of them could have been bothered with an argument "let's go, leave the pissy little brit to his own," a new voice spoke, I smiled at him as if he just paid me a compliment, though it was hardly an insult either.

They all got up and headed to the door together, bar one, Alfred himself. Who just stood, staring down at me in complete silence. My first instinct had been look away, waiting for him to leave, but his eyes still stuck on me, and I realised I had struck a chord I may not have meant to.

"so your dad takes care of my mom, huh?" he finally asks, his voice un believing. I realise now why he was as confused as he was, but at that very moment in time I had been on edge and very quick thinking.

And so, I reply "Y-yes, he indeed does… well, he did, but I think his boss re arranged the shifts,"

"well, thanks, but you didn't have to do that… Arthur, " it is a quick reply, in a throw away style "it's not like they were bothering me,"

Something had unnerved me about the way he stood, his arms were drooped down, like a rag dolls, and his legs stiff as plastic. The way he spoke my name, too, had been so unfamiliar to me, like he was getting used to the way it flicked off his tongue. I ignored all this though, stupidly, and replied with a slightly sour face "sorry for sticking up for you, then,"

"why did you stick up for me, though?"

I shrug, losing interest "Why wouldn't I?"

* * *

The very idea of Alfred going through a trade had been so alien to me. I knew well that he loved his mother, to the point that he definitely would have done anything to allow her to live on and on. That wasn't it. I just couldn't imagine the boy without the walls he had built around him since the beginning of high school, the walls that it so he didn't talk to me anymore, the barrier of pride, you could say.

The king of the school, lacking sanity? It wasn't very believable to me, because I didn't allow it to be.

Anyhow, I suppose you don't know much about the trades and such. They do, after all only tell you the basics in high school, so I will explain it in the slightest bit more detail.

If an individual is lacking in their life source, by this I mean the reactants in a person's body which provide white blood cells and the very building blocks of flesh and muscle, they become ill. Sometimes, the body is not efficient enough to provide enough of this; it becomes possible that the illness will be terminal. Well, quite a while back- around the 2030's, I would say- I psychologist found that the two products that control health and sanity are similar in form.

To stem off from that, it became clear that the form of mental health in one person was compatible to the life source of people close to them. That basically means, we became able to give people life at the cost of our own sanity. Of course there's a whole system in this, to take place in a trade, you need to have a true reason. This only includes health, psychological or religious reasons. As well as this, under twelve's may not be subjected to any form of trade.

My father- well, foster father- worked at a hospital, as previously mentioned, and he took care of people such as mrs Jones, who are in need of, are going through, or are recovering from a trade. I always found that job quite admirable, even with my past- which, some could say was dark.

I decided, that night, to ask him about Alfred, this was when I was visiting him at his break time, at the hospital, although, he wasn't really the most helpful.

"I am not allowed to tell you who has, or who hasn't been in a trade," he had said, his pearly cup full of a bitter liquid- coffee, horrible stuff it is- perched just under his lip. I groan, throwing myself back onto the sofa, asking myself why I had even thought asking my father would help, when he carried on "hang on. You're friends with Alfred again?"

My eyebrows furrow as I look up at him blankly for a moment, before realising what he meant and huffing, my knuckle held my heavy head up as I spoke "You say that like you've met him, no, we just spoke today, and there's a rumour going around school that he did a trade for his mother,"

"yeah, I know, but from what you told me of the boy I find it quite devastating that you aren't friends anymore," he takes a sip of the putrid muddy liquid "you should have seen the look on your face when you used to talk to him, to me it seemed like you looked up to him,"

I scowl into my hand "psh. Whatever. He's not the same person he was when we were kids,"

"I'm sure."

He wasn't lying; Alfred and I did had been friends in the past. Though, he had never met him, like I said. My father and mother actually fostered me two years previous to the time all this had been happening, so any information he got about my and Alfred's passed friendship was what he had read out of my diary. Yeah, he had been that type of dad.

We haven't been friends since we were twelve, which was the first year of high school. We had drifted away from each other due to a difference in priorities Alfred had taken an interest in the popular kids, wanting as many people to like him as possible, where as I was desperate to get straight A's, anybody who has been to high school knows that people with those sort of interests don't always make the best of friends. Because on my side, I was cooped up in my room surrounded my textbooks, and on Alfred's side, he was surrounded by… well, assholes, who called themselves friends.

We parted slowly, there wasn't a big argument or anything like that. Because of this, it was a secret, of sorts, that Alfred and I had even known each other in the first place.

It would be clear to onlookers how I still cared about the boy, still thought of him as a friend, even. To me, though, I felt as if we were strangers in each other's eyes, mainly because I thought that was how he viewed me at the time.

Little did I know how wrong I was.

* * *

"hey Arthur!"

I had flinched, visibly. On my way home, while the swollen abyss of night had wrapped around me, I had become absorbed in my own thoughts until the shout of my own name shook me slightly. I stopped walking, stiffly, and slowly located where the voice had come from. My discovery from this, was that behind me stood a hyperactive American, waving like an idiot.

It didn't really comprehend well in my brain, seen as I was tired from the day, and very cold, hunching my shoulders up so the choler of my coat reached high in attempt to guard my ears. I'm not sure if it's just me who does this, but when I'm alone with nothing but the whistle of the wind and the chill it leaves on my skin, I like to drift off into my fantasy land. This land, for me, is full of people who adore me, tea waterfalls...unicorns. And I still do this now, since it calms me, as well as refreshing my mind and will power, just enough for me to write that next piece of paper work.

Still in my dream land, for a clumsy moment or two, I forgot we were no longer as close as we had been four years ago, and my reply was "hey Alfie-"followed by a harsh realisation, that we were not on nick name basis anymore, and this was visually shown by the massive cringe at the use of his nick name, and I attempted to redeem myself "-fred. Hello Alfred, how are you?"

He seems to ignore my slip up (thank the lord) and the strole he had morphed into a jog, in attempt to catch up with me "why ya out so late?" he looks around absent minded "in the hospital car park, no less,"

I sniff, the cold making my nose run slightly, and the air smelt like burnt frost "Like I said earlier, my dad works at the hospital," I inform the him, returning to my walk.

He follows along, pulling a confused expression as he tried to comprehend something. When he gives up, he says "I was pretty sure he was a priest…" the comment trails off into the silence. My eyebrows furrow, as I look back at him momentarily.

Realising my mistake, I curse my stupidity silently, and ponder over a way of explaining everything that had happened while the boy had been away.

"… urm… yeah, he was, but this is…. A different dad?" I respond sounding a lot more confused than he did, forming the sentences in a way that seemed simple in my head, but when spoken out loud sounded silly and irrelevant "I was fostered..."

I remember being on the brink of hugging the boy out of pure joy. It sounds foolish, I know, but If it was you who had convinced you're self your childhood friend had become blind to you, wouldn't you feel the same when proven otherwise? This little thrill, a somewhat guilty pleasure, had surprised me. I had not realised how much his absence from my side had actually affected me.

Which is why when he had began saying "Why? I remember that he was an asshole but-" I cut him off abruptly, without even comprehending his words, because I wanted to know if his remembrance went as far as forgotten friendship.

"is it true?" was my question, my attempt to see if he trusted me.

"… Arthur," I remember feeling slightly hurt that he didn't call me 'Artie;' like he used to. It was unusual, because I used to whack him over the head whenever he called me by a name other than Arthur. "… It's been a while hasn't it? Shall we really go straight into that? Look, I'll walk you home,"

An aggravated sigh lodges in my throat "I live nowhere near you anymore, two miles in the other direction, actually," I was trying to maintain eye contact through the awkwardness, even though it felt like a forced chore.

"Oh…but, I can still walk you,"

I raised an eyebrow, the corner of my mouth twitching up into what resembled an amused smirk "It would be 11 o'clock when you get back, or around that time at the very least, and I don't want to find myself responsible for you getting murdered," though meant as a joke, it still harboured some truth. I pause, my words sounding unfinished, before I carry on matter-of-factly "it has been a while, though, we should catch up sometime,"

He nods, that stupid… perfect grin spreading across his face in an instant, before exclaiming "definitely! How about tomorrow after school? Cause, I suppose I have to repay you for sticking up for me today," his sentence breaks "Even if I didn't need it- which I definitely didn't- I'll buy you something as a thank you ... do you like coffee?"

I chuckle slightly and shake my head, a little tiny bit of warmth filling my stomach, fighting against the freeze around me "No, it's absolutely horrible... but I am a fan of tea, I must say,"

"Psh," he grunts playfully "Coffee is the beverage of gods! And here I was, thinking you were the smart one," his arms cross, as if to make his point seem even stronger.

"Sorry to say, I disagree quite strongly there,"

"Whatever, I'll buy you tea then, are you up for it or what?"

I blink "yes, I guess so, I have nothing better to do,"

"Good, I'll see you then," and with a nod of goodbye, he was gone

It's stupid how little moments like that can shoot you with nostalgia, and make you bleed the memories you want to return to. It's even worse to think how I'd never really noticed, back then, how these little encounters shaped my life, and created this blur whenever I thought of my future, distorted the clarity of what I thought I wanted, or even needed.


	2. Chapter 2

part one, chapter two

The day after started off strange, to say the least. My life during high school, ignoring the point that I was the president of the student council, consisted of me being disregarded as a bystander, somebody who nobody should care about, in a that vast sea of strangers that infected the world. That morning didn't quite go that way, instead of blank glances, I got icy stares, pissed off grunts, and slightly violent shoves from passersby.

I've always been used to attention, no matter how little I got it, as I was more than happy to show up any snob and slap them with a reality check, no matter what the repercussions. Consequentially, the out casts, nerd, geeks and everybody in between all got a good laugh out of it. But that day was different; the monarchy was the ones looking at me. Down their noses, with their snooty glares and scowls, a few were looking at me like I had stood on.

It was rather worrying at first, before I actually noticed the reason. At the end of the corridor- which had seemed endless and suffocating with all the eyes on me- was Alfred. He was lent against one of the blank, shiney walls beside the door of my form room, I nearly ignored him and walked straight past him in attempt to beckon the eyes away from me, but he spoilt that plan by grabbing my shoulder and giving it a mild shake. At that point I was on edge, so at his touch I shot my head up to glare at him, a glare less merciful than the ones I had been receiving.

He blinks down at me, seemingly unaware of my situation "Hey! are we still on for after school?"

When he said that, I realised that I was part of the reason I was gaining all of this attention, or rather, that was the point it fully processed in my head. Even though I was previously friends with the boy, he was now popular, the monarchy owned him and put him up to sit on their red, velvet throne, ready to kick him off if he makes a wrong move. It wasn't my proudest moment, but I found myself regretting agreeing to the golden boys arrangement, or even sticking up for him. "yes, sure, why not?" I tilted my head with a mild scowl masking me.

I wouldn't say I feared the popular kids, but rather feared becoming one. yes, I am aware how utterly idiotic that sounds but it's true, just the thought of the eyes glazing me in plastic, selling me off to be the schools next source of merchandise, it knocked me sick. I told this once to Alfred after this all happened; he just tilted his head and laughed.

"Sounds like you're just socially awkward," and then he carried on playing his dumb video game, without another word, leaving me to huff and watch.

Back then, though, I was just pretty sure it was because I hated everybody around me, and so I tensed up whenever a stranger tried speaking to me, or if somebody I didn't know even glanced in my direction.

Thankfully, Alfred looked past my scowl and patted my head, making me want to punch his throat "I'll see you then, yeah?" and then he just breezed past me, like it was no big deal, leaving me in a puddle of anger that was not truly directed at anybody.

* * *

"Oi, Arthur!" A voice echoed from behind me, recognising on instant who it was, I ignored it and continued walking "Arthur, you fucking ignorant asshole,"

Until the footsteps behind me become audible and I feel a shadow, I do not acknowledge any being at all. Once I hear heavy breathing beside me, I say "Gilbert, what is it?"

The albino pants, out of breath in his terrible state of fitness, and leans on my arm lazily "really? That's how you treat your awesome friend?" Frustrated, I shrug him off me, and he almost falls onto the tiled floor of the hallway "hey! Who put a stick up your ass?"

Staring daggers at him, I growl "Nobody has, piss off would you?"

"Liar! you're worse than normal! is it something to do with that shit with the golden boy?" he asks, sounding genially worried for my wellbeing. I could see him from the corner of my eye, leaning forward to get a good look at my face with the curiosity of a puppy- A puppy who cursed a lot, mind you.

Me and Gilbert had been friends for a few years by that point, though it had been an odd friendship riddled with swearing and punching each other, but we were good friends none the less. We became friends one day, about a month after we had started high school, I had overworked myself, because my father -the biological one- had been forcing me to take two part time jobs, to raise money for the church (Aka, beer) and I had drifted into quite a deep asleep on my desk, drooling a little on the table.

Back then, Gilbert had been an enthusiastic child, who had wanted to show everybody how 'awesome' he was by doing his best at work and trying- and failing- to be nice to everybody around him. Over the years, probably with a little help from me, he had lost that goal and had morphed into someone happy with the people he had around him, and unique, to say the least.

Anyway, being the good kid he was, the lad noticed me fast asleep and, according to him, snoring pretty loudly. Instead of throwing his hand up into the air and telling the teacher, like I probably would have done myself, he had recorded a second set of notes for me, and gave them to me at the end of the lesson.

It was a silly act of kindness, I was truly baffled as to how somebody would do this for someone who had already earned the title 'stuck up nerd', and so it got us talking. We were the strangest set of friends you could imagine. Well, except for me and Alfred I suppose, I do attract opposites, it seems.

We're still in contact today, me and Gilbert, but since I no longer live in England- I do miss it greatly, if you are wondering- we cannot talk as often as we did back then.

That's not what I'm supposed to be talking about though.

I blink in confusion "How the hell do you know anything about that?"

Beside me, he digs into the pocket of his jet black hoody- which had cat ears sewn onto the hood, god knows why- to take out his the slim tablet that was his phone. The school we went to, had a really popular forum page on the internet, anything was discussed there, from the newest sweethearts hooking up- and breaking up- to the horrors of the school menu, to even favourite colours. The most popular subject of talk was always at the absolute top of the page, and that day the subject was, well, me.

In big, block white obnoxious letters, read the words 'KING ALFRED HAS A NEW PET, LOL'. I still hit myself to this day for being most frustrated because of the 'Lol' at the end of the statement, rather being lowered to the status of a pet.

"What the bloody hell?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at the screen and reading some of the related posts. Apparently many people, mainly girls, were resentful of my new place as the 'kings pet'. Others were discussing what my relationship actually was with the lad; some even went to the extent of naming me Alfred's new boy toy. "Ugh, pricks," I comment, slightly discussed by the terms being used.

Gilbert laughs "I know right?" he looks at his phone himself and scrolls slightly "you talk to someone once, and suddenly you're fucking them... "

I sigh, continuing my walk, which was directed to the student council, before commenting, absent minded "I wonder what he's thinking about all this," aggravation was still lining my voice, so it gave off the impression that I was actually annoyed at Alfred; and I may have truly believed I was at the time, I don't actually remember.

"Probably loving the attention," the Prussian replied, sliding his phone back into its home. Gil knew in detail about what happened between me and Alfred, since we made friends just as I was losing the other, and he hated him for it. He often made jokes about him when I had felt down, like it was the Alfred's fault I wasn't having the best day. I always ended up laughing at them though, feeling guilty the moment my laughter dies down.

Shrugging, I reply "maybe, but wouldn't you get sick of being the schools 'king' after a while?" I spit the word 'king', as I always did, I hated how he had developed the status. To me, Alfred was a normal, down to earth person, and the people around him had forced him into this persona like he was nothing more than a puppet on a string. Then, after treating him like their star actor, they went ahead and rewarded him by making it so everybody thought of him as a perfect soul, who would never do anything socially unexpected. Such as getting a trade.

"No, cause I'm awesome! I deserve the attention more than that cock of a guy,"

"He's not actually that bad," I comment, feeling as if we had just been attacking the boy with no real reason "Just a little self-absorbed... much like you actually,"

"piss off," he laughs, hitting my arm slightly with the point of his elbow "what are you? one of his fan boys?"

"nah, I'm his pet, remember?" I say we both burst out in a flood of pointless laughter as we reach my destination.

The door to the student council room, was somehow intimidating, for an inanimate object. It was huge and made of oak, swirled in caramel and dark chocolate. The twin brass handles were painted golden, with a little hole for a key to slot in. I must say, every time I unlocked those doors I felt as if I was, rather than the king's pet, a prince to the school. Nobody knows that, because of how much of a cringe worthy thought it actually is, but it's true.

The room past those doors, on the other hand, was hardly classy. Just a long table scattered with scrap paper inked with doodles, with a terrible lighting which twitched and flicked, making it hard to read anything put in front of you. Still, all I had to do was walk in, print off some paper work so the general appearance of the room didn't bother me, plus, as president I got my own desk and computer, so I hardly had to deal with the problems of the scraggy room.

"Hey, as prez, don't you get access to school records?" Gilbert asks, trailing behind me as I approach the computer.

I fall onto the black swivel chair, twisting in the seat to face the monitor and keyboard to type my log in details, I reply in a distracted hum "yeah... why?"

He leans forward, propping his elbows onto my desk to get a look at what I was doing, though, it was likely he wasn't actually interested, but wanted something to occupy his eyes with. "Doesn't that include medical stuff? You could see if king dip shit did a trade or not,"

"... I'm not going to do something like that, it would be make me worse than the monarchy..." I grumble as I click the odd folder on my desktop, searching for the one I needed.

At that time, I wanted hear the truth from Alfred himself. It hadn't seemed like such a big deal, whether or not he had traded any of his sanity, but it was human nature to be curious.

* * *

At the end of the day, I wasn't too sure where I was supposed to go, since my last lesson wasn't with Alfred and we hadn't really scheduled a meeting spot. Wandering around the halls, surprisingly, helped quite a bit, as it seemed that he had been searching for me too.

"Arthur! Hey!" he had exclaimed as if we had not just walked into each other, as I rub my forehead while squinting up at him. His grin was wide and bright, and he held his arms out to punctuate his sentence as if he was going to pull me into a clumsy embrace in greeting. Mumbling something even I couldn't comprehend, I walk past him, silently ushering him to follow me. "bet you've been looking forward to hangin with me all day, huh?"

I look back from where I was, a few paces ahead of him, and give him a humoured glance "don't flatter yourself, Alfred." It was a playful warning, and my way of telling him that we were still on the same level, he may have become the 'king' of the school, but I wasn't about to treat him like the royalty he and the other populars a portrayed and pretended to be.

Alfred skips forward to join my pace as we begin our way down the schools staircase to get to the ground floor "so you don't want to hang?" he raises an eye brow "no free tea for you then, huh,"

"oh piss off," I laugh, and we begin our way to the cafe. I wish I could say our relationship maintained this playful air, that is was comfortable even beyond this point, but that would be a lie. I'm getting ahead of myself though.

Outside, the air was icy to our skin, and I hit myself for not bringing a thick coat in that day. So when we got into the little, compact cafe Alfred had swore by, the change in temperature was rather overwhelming. One minute my skin had felt like I had taken an ice bath, the next, a thick layer of sweat had appeared on my forehead. Alfred went to get our drinks as I sat down at a small, circular table. I have a small time to think about the situation I'm in, and why I agreed.

I'll be honest now, it was because I wanted to know if the rumour was true or not. It was hypercritical, I know, and that's why I refused to admit it to myself. Back then, though, when scanning my brain for excuses, the best I could find is that I wanted to support the boy in his situation. It was true, I did want to help him, but for my own little selfish reasons, but then again, when are we, as a race, not selfish?

Alfred walks over to the table, two polystyrene cups clasped in his hands. He places the one inked with the words 'earl gray' in front of me and pulls his seat out, the wood of the chair scraping the tiles to make a painful screech. I take the drink in front of me, letting its heat bleed between my fingers while taking a deep breath of the teas herbal fumes.

"so..." I hum contently "how have you been?"

He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs lazily "uh, Alright I suppose, you?"

"well, I have straight A's and I'm the student council president," I explain, mildly boasting that I had achieved the goals I set at the start of high school, wondering whether or not he remembered our childish discussions about our futures "so I'm pretty good,"

He takes a sip from the drink in his hand, nodding absent minded "sounds pretty boring really,"

"oh, do shut up," I scowl lightly "It's not like you're any better, surrounded by people who'd make a joke out of anything you bloody do,"

"You think so?" he smirks "sure you're not just jealous?"

Shaking my head, I considered bringing up what happened the other day, but don't as of the light hearted atmosphere we were in. Instead, I just rolled my eyes and retorted "as if I'd be jealous you, twit,"

He looks at me for a moment, before shrugging lightly "well, I never see you talking with anyone,"

"I never see you not talking to anyone." I narrow my eyes "I'm pretty good friends with Gilbert, and I talk to Francis now and again,"

There's no reply, he just glances out the frosted window to our side, seemingly lost in thought. I give up expecting an answer, and follow his gaze, up in the sky had become dark and the clouds heavy. Not a surprise, seen as we lived in England, but I remember thinking how they ruined the view outside, and took away from the happy space me and Alfred had created as we got to know each other once more.

Needless to say, the 'catch up' didn't end up lasting too long. We just spoke about odd things, the majority of the time was consumed by silence as Alfred regularly got up to get more coffee and a heap of cakes and pastries. Now, growing up with the lad, I was more than used to his less-than-elegant eating habits, but I remember thinking 'that's a bit much... even for him' when watching as he ate, and ate, and ate. Our few conversations were spoken very vaguely, and I couldn't quite summon the heart to ask him about the trade business, all our encounter had achieved was to make me worry more.

As I had said, I never really believed it was any more than a rumour, there was just this stupid little nagging in the back of my head asking me, what if it was true? And what if he had nobody to help him through it?

stupid stuff I would have never, and still would never, admit had ever ran through my head. My pride is a massive factor in my life, and so caring for someone over an extended period of time of never speaking is something I never admit to anybody. Even Alfred himself is still unaware I was actually so bothered about it, even now.

We had said our goodbyes, I still sat down as I was finishing the last mouthful of tea that swamped the bottom of my cup, and he had walked off, harbouring a strangely serious aura. It had been around five minutes of me sitting alone in the cosy cafe before I noticed his jacket was still in a wrinkled bunch on the chair in front of me. Upon its discovery, I had said aloud "ah fuck," and got several annoyed glances from staff and others alike.

Having no reason for staying any longer, I grabbed his brown jacket and headed out. He must have got a taxi, because there was no sight of him anywhere. It was pretty lucky I knew where he lived, because I doubt I could have taken the strange looks from everyone the next day when I walked up to him and tossed the lump of fabric in his face, but I had to walk since I did not have the leisure of carrying around a load of cash, since my mother did not trust be with it for some reason, and therefore could not get a taxi.

The walk took me longer than twenty minutes, as I had been strolling casually, the boys coat stuffed into my satchel, before I actually made it to his house.

* * *

The residence of the Jones family was quite large, but that shouldn't surprise you since all of us at my school were well off, and living in, at the very least, decent houses. Though, this one in particular had always taken my breath away. It was truly fit for a king; towering over you in the grandest way possible, a combination of: stone, pillars, fountains and a garden painted with hundreds of flowers, and grass that seemed to always be freshly mowed.

I had stood outside the palace for a moment or two, looking up at the masterpiece in awe and nostalgia, before pushing open the huge iron gate and making my way to the entrance. It hadn't occurred to me how Alfred's dad would react to my sudden re-appearance in his life, as I knocked heavily on the front door.

"Hello... Arthur? Is that you?" The man had said to me upon seeing my face. The first thing that struck me, was the fact his once black slick head of hair he once possessed, had began turning silvery, and it kind of resembled thousands of tiny silver wires upon his head. At that point, I realised, he had been well into his fifties, and it was made obvious by the shadows of wrinkles starting to appear on his face, and the slouching of his back.

"Mr jones," I managed with a nod, masking my uncertainness "it's been a while,"

"Are you here to see Alfie? come in! come in!"

I went on to explain about the item I needed to return, telling him I couldn't stay long as I needed to be at the hospital for nine o'clock, my father's break time, it wasn't like I hadn't wanted to catch up with the man, I just needed to be somewhere. The look he gave me made me feel slightly guilty, his wife was in hospital with cancer, and his son was always locked up in his room playing video games, the other studying. I guess he was looking forward for someone to talk to, so I added at the end of my flustered explanation "I'll come tomorrow, if I'm not busy,"

Smiling, he nodded and gestured to the stairs as if he expected me to have forgotten where it was "first door you see is Al's, you could drop in to see Matthew for a moment too, if you have time,"

Then, I made my way up the marble staircase, and then without thinking, I let myself into his room like I had always done before. I wasn't really prepared to see what I did. The nostalgia, the huge house I had the hidden need to explore, the man I hadn't seen for years, it all made me feel like I was back in my child hood, back where stuff like this didn't exist, none of it did, in my blissful, childhood ignorance.

You must have had an experience like it; it's kind of like, when you're in a daze, walking down the street without a worry in the world, and then, because you weren't paying attention to anything ahead of you, you allow yourself to step into a puddle. The water explodes under the pressure of your foot and covers you, leaving you cold and shivering and feeling shameful for a reason you can't put your finger on.

Well, that's what it had felt like when I absentmindedly strolled into his room, and saw Alfred- staring down at his tanned wrist, where he held a rusty razor blade, barely touching his skin. All the happy, childish feelings I had were ripped from me, the air became thick and for the first time I saw Alfred as more than a happy, bubbly childhood friend, or the king held so highly he was almost not visible any more, but a human. I had stepped into a puddle.

I can't remember what exactly I was thinking, if I was thinking at all, but I know that the moment I lay my eyes on him, I ran short distance between us and shouted, with a the slightest sob hidden behind fake anger "what the bloody hell are you doing?"

Not fazed by my presence, he mumbled through his tense lips, which he had seemingly been biting, as they now seemed a bloody red, chapped and sore "Hello Arthur," He made no attempt to look at me, his eyes just stayed glued to where they were, focussed "here to bring me my coat? sorry for leaving it," he laughed slightly as if we were idly chatting, face to face "I didn't mean to be an inconvenience."

He then proceeded to grip the blade in the hand he held it, a little too tightly, and threw it to the other side of the room, before letting his limbs drop, like the flop of a puppet that had been cut from its strings.

His coat was now on the floor, much like the two of us, and the thought of it had completely fled from my mind. I gripped the arm he had the razor pressed against and searched it, thank god there was no cuts, just a little scratch where the blade had indented slightly. Forgive me, but I can't go into too much detail about what I was thinking or feeling, it's a very hazy memory I had tried to forget until now, but I think I was on the verge of tears.

"I didn't do it, don't worry," he shrugged me off, taking his arm from my grasp and unrolling his sleeve so it covered his wrist. He stares at the razor for a moment, before looking at me with a blank expression "have you ever heard of knocking by the way?"

"...I'm sorry?" I blinked, words escaping my mind, trying to grasp how he had gone from the joyful boy he was in the cafe, to the blank canvass he was now. Had it been my fault? "... Alfred, I-"

"shut up."

I don't retaliate; just study his face, and mumble "Okay."

I'm not sure how long I sat on his floor, pathetically; it could have been a few seconds, or even ten minutes. But I'm sure my limbs felt too heavy too move, even though I obviously wasn't wanted there. Finally, though, he began talking after a sad, quiver of a sigh "...I tried not to, Arthur... I swear I did... I just saw it- the razor- lying there, a-and I couldn't stop myself-"

I wrapped my arms around him, not knowing what else to do, hushing his voice. Awkward as it was, he shut up immediately, and stayed limp as I stroked his back reassuringly. It was strange, like a mother's instinct, as if there was nothing else I could do, and we stayed like that until he stopped shaking.

"Don't worry Alfred, I'm not going to question you," I stated, although the voice inside me was shouting at me to ask him about the trade "as long as you promise not to do it again,"

"I'm not sure I can promise that."

"... I'll give you my number, okay? Then, if you ever want to do it again, you can call me, day or night."

after a pause full of tension, he nodded into my shoulder.

I stayed a while longer, even said hello to Matthew, as if none of it had happened. I made sure to pick up the razor on my way out.

* * *

**A/N:**

**Hello! So, I planned on waiting a few days before posting the next chapter**

**...**

**...**

**...**

**like that was ever going to happen. **

**Either way, I dont want you to think this was all written and edited in one day, because it wasn't. I have already pre-written five chapters, all of the first part of this story. There will be three parts in total... agh I better get writing! **

**thank you to pippy231 and madameppink for following this story, it means the world to me it really does. Okay, see you next time!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

"Artie?" spheres blinked down at me, in complete confusion "what's that from?"

He pointed to the scabbed cut on my cheek, I shrugged, not wanting to talk about it "Daddy did it... b-but mummy said its okay, because he didn't mean to,"

"...but aren't daddies supposed to stop you from getting cuts and bruises?"

"it was an accident Al." I spat at the younger boy, pouting and looking away.

It was nothing but a memory, but as I sat in the staff room with my father it kept repeating in my head. That day I was slouched back on the couch, much like I was a child who was overflowing with boredom, staring up at the ceiling and watching as my mind projected my childhood before my eyes. "Father?"

"mh?"

"what stage of sanity would you be at if you got urges to self harm?" I as, flipping onto my stomach to face him.

This body language is not odd for those at my age, but for me it was. I normally sit with a straight back and the dullest expression you could ever imagine on anybody's faces, so I guess my dad was justified for almost jumping out of his seat and exclaiming "you are getting urges to self harm?"

I blinked at his worried expression, and furrowed my eyebrows "well, no, but... somebody I know is..."

He calms down and relaxes again. reaching for his coffee (I have lectured him many times how much better tea is but he just never listens) he sighs.

"is this your attempt to get me to tell you about Alfred?"

My reply to this was to groan extremely loudly so he knew for frustrated I was, before saying "of course bloody not! I don't care about that right now!"

"Don't use that tone with me young man!"

as much as I loved him, my dad was really hard to talk to sometimes. But, I guess you all know what it feels like to have somebody like that, so I don't really need to go into detail here. My point is, he was making it really hard for me to talk about what had just happened, and his opinion was the one I looked up to the most. So, not because I was angry with him or anything, I stood up and stormed out without saying goodbye, and headed for outside.

I was a wreck, really, I wasn't the best at dealing after all, and what had just happened drowned me in them. The thoughts running through my head also scared me slightly.

I was angry at Alfred for even thinking of doing something like that, I just wanted to shout at him until he realised how selfish he was being, how could he want to harm himself, when so many people loved him, looked up to him? The answer was obvious though, looking back, I wasn't supposed to walk in, I wasn't supposed to stop him or even see him. He would have carried on his perfect act and nobody would know how much he hated himself.

Would it have been better that way? I wasn't sure.

A stranger must had seen my frustration, because he held a cigarette out to me and said "hard day, huh?"

At that point I was crouched down outside the hospital, my shoulders hunched over my knees. At first I was ready to turn it away, but tears welled in my eyes slightly and somehow I convinced myself that taking it would make it all go away.

"Y-yeah," I replied, taking the tube of Tabaco-already lit- and looking up at the stranger thankfully.

This was my first, and last, time smoking. It wasn't very enjoyable, in truth, but the memory is glorified by the kindness of the stranger. the first drag clogged my airways and irritated them, making me cough stupidly. It was horrible, and slightly humiliating, but it gave me an excuse to let a tear or two fall and lable it 'watering eyes'.

"so, what is it?" he flicks his ash onto the floor beside him "maybe tellin ' a stranger will make ya feel better," his accent was heavy, but I'm not sure where he could have been from, his voice was also rough, but that was probably from all the smoking.

I blew out some smoke into the air and watched at it got lost in the sky "... I found out a friend was self harming," I had picked my words carefully, I didn't want this man thinking I was stupid for getting so worked up even though he wasn't really my friend any more, and the razor hadn't even cut his skin. Maybe I was seeking a little pity, who knows?

We both continued looking into the inky black sky, never bothering to take note on the others appearance "ouch," he commented with a slight, sadistic chuckle which honestly made me feel better "well, what can you do huh? I don't want to sound mean but, I really hate people who do that,"

My legs had began wavering slightly, so I stood up and leant onto the brick wall behind me and nodded "I wanted to slap him, honestly," pause "... though, he was trying to inflict pain on himself, so it would have been stupid for me to have done that,"

He laughs "yeah. would have been Kinda hypocritical if you had done that," he stays silent for a moment, I didn't speak as the way his words hung in the air made it seem like he was thinking, so I urged him on silently "Is he really important to you?"

I think about this for a moment, honestly not sure on the answer myself, everything I had been doing told be he was still important to me, but I still found myself saying "we're pretty distant. you know how it is..."

"yeah, I have a friend like that too. why's it eatin at you so much then?"

"I guess I feel responsible," I reply, honestly "...it doesn't matter, I have to go now, sorry,"

Remembering it now, I find myself wondering if he actually had a story of his own. He was stood outside of a hospital, after all, talking to an absolute stranger, maybe he wanted to talk about it too. Back then, I have to say, I was quite the brat, it never crossed my mind he wanted to speak too, and I had walked off without a care, feeling slightly better about my feelings having them reassured by a second party.

* * *

THE KINGS PET MAY HAVE UPGRADED TO... MORE?

That was the latest headline on our school website, as before Gil had been the one to show me. Slouched forward on my desk, nesting my head in my folded arms, I flinched when he thrust his phone in my face, before scanning over the titles listed as subcategories of the forum post. Then I made an uninterested grunt, turning my attention to the view out of the window, not really caring what people thought.

But Gilbert did care, and he groaned beside me as he let his arm drop "what did you do?" he asked in frustration.

"I did nothing," I answered, my breath misting up the glass I was facing.

"well apparently you were seen going inside golden boys house!"

I scowled "I was returning his jacket,"

"the hell did you have his jacket anyway?!"

I jerked my head up "He left it in McDonalds, so I thought I might do the half decent thing, look where that's gotten me! oh boy I'm now the kings little whore, woop-dee-fucking-doo!" I sing the last bit tilting my head from side to side with every syllable. when I'd finished, I lay my head back onto my arms lazily "we used to be friends anyway, whys this such a big deal?"

"well duh," his tone was now a lot more calm, I hear the chair behind me screech as he pulls it out to sit on "he's the king, your the student council president... heh, weird, since you're the British one shouldn't you be the king and he be the prez?" I look at him with the expression of 'are you kidding me?' before he carries on "anyhow, nobody looks at what was, they just like to know what is. ya know?"

"How bloody stupid," I complain.

At that moment Alfred walks in, his eyes search the room until they find me, he smiles upon his discovery. I remember feeling pretty un sure as the weather or not I should trust it, his smile I mean, but since it wasn't his usual perfect grin I figured it must have been real enough. He tilts his wrist to me, bragging slightly that he resisted the urge of the previous night without my help, I guessed.

I then proceeded to curse him as he made his way over to me and sit in the seat in front of me and said nonchalantly "hey Artie,"

my heart jumped slightly at that, the nick name, I had expected him to continue our acquaintance act, the one I suppose I had been relying on. I grunted in response, not wanting to spark any more rumours about us, and cautious of the tension Gilbert had created by going completely quiet.

"uh... Thanks for last night..." he looked at the albino beside me for a moment, then he gestures to the bomber jacket tied around his waist "this is my favourite jacket, after all,"

"yeah, sure."

"have you got a head ache or something? if you have I've got painkillers,"

I shake my head and sit up once again, my back cracking from the abnormal contortion it had been in "Just... tired." I answered, eyeing the others in the room, aware they may use anything we said in another context.

That's when Gilbert spoke up, I don't know till this day if he was just annoyed at the American, or if he was worried about me. I don't care really.

"Oi, golden boy," A few gasps sounded around the room, nobody had ever called the boy his nickname to his face, so nobody truly knew how to react. what most had done was scowled in Gilberts direction before looking at Alfred curiously for any sign of response, he did not deliver, though. I had just turned to him, just as curios as everybody else were of what he had to say, but not overthinking anything being said out of my sure exhaustion "do you mind not starting things with Arthur, here? you had your chance at being his friend, and all your doing now is creating shit for him."

And then I panicked slightly, wanting so much to punch my friend square in his face. I looked between the two, worried at what Alfred's reaction was going to be, but the clog in my throat not willing me to speak.

"uh, well, I'm sorry, but I wasn't aware me an' Artie had stopped being friends."

he didn't sound offended or possessive like most people would have if they would have said anything like this. It was more like he was apologising, and reassuring both me and Gil that he would stop the rumours.

Although, I have to say, it hurt me, him claiming that we were still friends, even after all of the years of getting ignored. I hadn't held to him at all, I understood perfectly why a popular wouldn't be friends with me (since I was in the process of facing the repercussions), but that statement sounded like he was denying any of it ever happened.

I stayed silent, but everybody else did not. conversations sparked to life, gossip so loud that our conversation had been forgotten about.

And then Alfred carried on, in a more hushed tone "look, I'll sort it out, I'm sorry okay?" and then he stood up, and walked to where his other friends were.

* * *

"What the heck are you doing Artie?!" Gilbert asks as I type away on the computer in the student council office "I wasn't being serious when I said that yesterday, you cant just look at his medical history like that!"

Call me horrible, if I was in your position I would do, but the itch to know the truth had grown too much, and now it clawed at my brain every time I saw the lad. For a while, nothing had been happening considering Alfred and his trade, but the morning of the day I'm speaking about now, I had began hearing rumours about the boy, and how his popularity had been dropping dramatically. Apparently, as soon as it was clear that Alfred had actually gone through a trade, or had become 'insane', as they put it, he will be disguarded by his friends and followers, and kicked off the throne that was so high it had become little less than a sky scraper. For some reason, hearing this news made me uncomfortable not knowing whether or not he had given his sanity to his mother to use to live.

As a result, I had marched down the halls of my school in an aura of determination the moment break time began. Before realising it, I was at the computer for the student council president, and Gilbert had been stood at the doors in awe, something I didn't understand. He said "You're not doing what I think you're doing, right?"

This had surprised me, so I raised an eyebrow at him as, the hue off the computer radiating on my face. I was wondering something along the lines of, wasn't he the one who suggested this? "Why not? you shouldn't care, you hate him,"

"I don't hate him, I just don't like how he treats you dipshit,"

I hummed in response, finding no reason to reply or attempt to explain myself. And then I found his file, and clicked on it. The albino shuffled uncomfortably to a place behind me, muttering something I can't quite recall, probably something about how much of a moron I was.

And then, there it was, right under the personal records- things like age, full name, ect- in the same size and font as any of the other letters or numbers on the page. But to me, the words looked as if they had been highlighted.

'Type two reduction/trade- 50%'

I blinked. My fingers were hovering, stiff, above the key board, as if I was just about to continue typing furiously. A part of me, the part that wanted to know this so much, was mocking me, asking me 'what now?' and other pointless questions like that. After a few seconds I shook my head and sat back in my seat, muttering an 'oh god,' at a volume only I would be able to hear.

I feel as if, that was one of the most selfish things I have ever done, literally invading the lawfully private information of Alfred. Seen as, if you are younger that eighteen, nobody should be open to the information about your trade other than parents, school and anything medical. The information I had just learnt, it hadn't actually changed anything, really. Before then I had seen the boy close to self harm, so I was already happy to help him in any way he needed, wanted. Even if that hadn't of happened, did I really need that excuse to care for the boy? so, if you want to know what I felt as a reaction, it was guilt. Through and through.

I still feel it now, thinking how much I really shouldn't have done that, how instead I should have just resisted any questions I had because Alfred should have really come first.

But, we're like that, us humans. It's our nature to be selfish, to want to fit in, to prove ourselves right. We go on so much about how good of a race we are, what's humane and what isn't, and yet, we treat everybody like objects.

* * *

Around this time I had started having nightmares, or rather, memories. One I can remember vividly is of my brother, Allistor, looking down at me and explaining, in detail, how the trade had come around. That was around the time I was close to having a reverse trade, that's gaining sanity- rather than giving it- in exchange for another's life source, and so reducing the time they have to live in attempt to cure any mental taboos you have. I knew about this whole deal earlier than most, kids are usually taught about the trades at the ages of fourteen, around the time they are taught about sex ed.

This is because of innocence, the need parents have to maintain their child's naivety, to keep their babies from turning into adults. That light buried in a child that, now that you're older, you will see in any child scurrying around you. You can even pinpoint that light in your own childhood, no matter how horrible you were treated growing up we all have that memory of our, innocent, ignorant selves. After all ignorance is bliss.

Anyway, I have this memory I dreamt about sometimes, when I was about ten. It was the first time anyone had told me what a trade was, I was being told time and time again that I was going to get one, but nobody had bothered to explain it. And, well, it was on purpose.

Adults don't like thinking about death themselves. If you had to explain to a child, that they were practically taking away from somebody's life span, simply to change the way they thought, it wouldn't feel right. Allistor, however, hated everything the trade stood for, and resented my father for making me get one.

I often heard his arguments with him at night, but since the language was too advanced at that stage I cant really reference anything that was said. But it definitely was heartfelt, my brother was always calling me a brat, and such, but in this period of time he smiled at me, and answered all of my questions, including the 'Alli? what is a trade?' from my dream.

You might be wondering why I call this a nightmare, and, well this should explain most of it.

A couple of nights after discovering the truth, I was torn from one of those memory/nightmare type dreams, by my phone screeching and buzzing on the shelf above my head. I never switched my phone off before I went to bed, like most of the people I knew did, because if I got a call it was usually important, like my dad was going to stay at the hospital all night, or my mother may need my help doing something down at her lab (did I not mention? yeah, my foster mother was a scientist), so you can imagine the panic I was in. Fighting with my duvet, I struggled to extend my arm and twist it so that I could reach the buzzing device.

Thankfully, I got to it before it stopped ringing, and know sat up in my nest of bed covers, I answered, breathing heavily "h-hello?"

The response I got was surprisingly nonchalant, though after a few moments as if their words were thought through in detail "hey Artie,"

I blink, sleep outlining my eye and weaving my eyelashes "I'm sorry, who is this?" My voice was slightly scratchy, since I was still in that stage of waking up where everything around you was slightly more blue that usual, and your throat is so dry it feels like sand paper.

I hear the person click their tongue "is it not obvious?"

Pausing for a moment, I sigh before falling back onto my bed "Alfred, what's wrong?"

"I can't sleep, an' I felt like talking to you... um, that totally sounded weirder than I meant it to,"

If I heard that sentence now, I would probably feel really happy and flattered, and get this fluffy churn in my stomach that would make me want to laugh and throw up at the same time. Though, this is teenage Arthur we're talking about, the one who thought it would be a good idea to look through somebody's medical history and then avoid them for the following days because he felt so guilty. There for, I just glanced at the clock and replied "its three in the bloody morning, wanker, talk to me in the morning,"

There was a noise on the other end of the phone, which I presume to be an awkward shuffle, before I got the answer "but you told me I could call you anytime," he pauses "day or night..."

I start rubbing my eyes furiously, deciding I wasn't even that tired "oh... I did say that,"

"yup."

There was an awkward silence between us, which I took as time for me to get out of the warmth of my bed and stole, drowsily, towards my desk. I switch on my lamp, which fills the room with a slight amber hue, and put the call on loud speaker so I had no need of holding it to my ear.

"I suppose I woke you then." He comments, rather dully, lacking any of his usual enthusiasm.

"Well, yeah, I don't normally stay up a moment after ten," I reply, digging into my bag to find the homework that was due the next day "but, it's kind of a good thing you called, since I have homework to do..."

He laughs "you're such a nerd,"

"Psh, excuse me if I don't want to fail epically at my exams,"

I hear him hum in thought, along with another rustle "I'm passing most of my work, at least I think I am... on second thought, I'm probably not,"

In the process of scribbling ink onto my math homework, I reply, absent minded "ands whys that?"

"Cause' I'm stupid,"

It may not seem like an odd reply, but for Alfred, the boy who went round calling himself the 'hero', him claiming that he was stupid was rather shocking to me. That's when I remembered his trade, and why I had not been talking to him, and I felt the guilt fill my stomach once again. "you're not stupid, don't be silly," I reply, sitting back in my swivel chair, putting the end of my pen to my bottom lip "You just chose to focus on your social skills, that's an intelligence in its own way,"

"...right."

"so, what do you want to talk about?" I ask, anxious to switch the subject.

"I dunno... ur, oh yeah, you never told me why go got fostered,"

I usually would have refused a topic like this right away, it was personal information and I hadn't told anyone about it before that point. But, I felt I owed a bit of my personal information to him, to make up for the invasion of his privacy I had committed a few days earlier, and I think, now, if I hadn't of told him anything that day, we wouldn't of trusted each other as much as we did later on, when it actually mattered. That being said, I wasn't that confident about it, he may had of been my childhood friend, but I still thought he must have been different now. In my eyes, Alfie from my childhood, and Alfred the golden boy, were two completely different people.

Regaining the confidence you once had in a person is, in a way, even harder than trusting a complete stranger. There's this slight fear I had, which I hadn't noticed at the time, that if I actually talked to him, it would solidify for me that the person I had known, had gone forever. It's scary, so I would have rather watched him from a far, and kept him the same in my eyes.

Though, I suppose, seeing him with that razor had completely killed the air of innocence I had seen in him. It's stupid really. I was always joking with Gilbert, sometimes even Francis, about how high his little fans held him on their pedestal, and yet I was the same. No, I hadn't seen him as this boy who was amazing at everything, but I did try to convince myself that he was the same silly child I loved when we were little.

Talking about this now actually reminds me of an incident about a year previous to when all this had been happening. I had been sat in my usual seat, watching the sky and its clouds move at a turtle like speed, when I heard the popular kids- that includes golden boy, although he hadn't quite gained that title back then- talking about relationships and such. It was idle banter, and I wasn't too interested in who was dating who, and if this person was a virgin where as that one lost it when they were twelve. None of it was really that true anyway.

Then they all turned on Alfred, and I guess this made me a little bit more interested. One boy, if I remember correctly he was one of the lads who were asking Alfred if he had a trade that time at dinner, was accusing him of 'shagging' – as he put it- Elizaveta in the girls toilets. Obviously, the American was denying it, even if he was laughing along with the others.

At that point I had scowled at then and stood up, raising my voice in a harsh tone to say "Elizaveta would do no such thing, she is not a whore, unlike most of you," and stormed out in a rush of anger.

I had talked to the girl at that point, since she was a friend of Gilbert, so it would be completely normal for me to stick up for her. That said, I remember that my stomach did a little flip as soon as Alfred was mentioned, and although I was friends, as such, with the girl, I believed she could both stick up for herself and do whatever she wanted. Alfred, on the other hand, in my mind, was not. For me, that would have been like a seven year old had come up to me and began to brag of their sexual partners. Quite horrible, really.

My point is, though I did not relies it- or rather, I didn't want to admit it- I had always regarded Alfred as a child, or maybe I thought he wasn't allowed to grow up if he wasn't in my presence.

But that's not what I want to talk about at the moment, I guess I should apologise for going off on a tangent there. What I really want to talk about was how I dealt with the subject he had brought up that night, while I was on the phone to him. For some reason I felt a burden would be lifted if I poured my heart out to the lad, with my little sob story. Of course that didn't end up being the case, because like I said earlier, I still feel guilty for looking at his medical records.

Either way, I took a deep breath and asked "do you really want to know?" as if I was about to tell the greatest secret ever.

"If you don't mind telling me..." he didn't sound so sure of himself, but I had already made up my mind that I was going to tell him.

I smirked- like I said, I was a brat when I was a teenager- and made him promise not to tell anybody else, because even if I was willing to tell him to get rid of my guilt, it was still something I would have never told anyone but him, and maybe Gilbert. When he promised, I began "well, you know how my real dads a priest?"

"uh-huh,"

"okay, so he's really against sinning,"

"obviously, he's a man of god,"

I scowl slightly, subconsciously "A man of god would abuse his children and get pissed out of his head," I'm not sure if he heard that or not, but he did stay silent until I carried on "...whatever, well, urm..."

I was starting to regret starting the story, a little flush had risen to my cheeks and my stomach was begging me not to go on "Jesus, right, I know that I made you promise before but this is... really secret. I mean it. Only my biological parents know this."

"okay, my lips are sealed Artie, you can trust me,"

"Okay..." I take a deep breath "well... when I was twelve, I started... liking males, as more than friends. a-and-"

"Wait. wait. wait. one, why the hell did you not tell me!? and two, who was it?" I could hear a grin in his voice, it was like a bug spray to the butterflies swarming my stomach.

"Wanker, we had stopped talking when I was twelve, and that bit is... way too embarrassing, I don't like him anymore anyway, so it doesn't matter," I laughed slightly, I think I was truly happy at his reaction, since this part of me had never really given me anything but trouble.

He mumbles something I couldn't quite hear- when I asked about it later he told me he had been kicking his cat, tony, out of his room- before clearing his throat and replying "you should of told me anyways," it was a sort of whine, but only a playful one.

"what, come up to you while you were surrounded with your popular friends and just go ahead and say 'hello Alfred, I'm gay' and then walk off?"

He laughs "yes, yes, you really should have, their faces would have been amazing, oh my god," I remember imagining him holding his stomach because he was laughing so hard, it was a nice feeling being able to make him laugh "okay, carry on,"

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me "right. well, having this little realisation at such a young age was... unusual, and I went to my dad, because this website I found told me I should tell my family first,"

He groans, in a way that made it sound like he was saying 'you dumb idiot' without actually articulating it "never, and I mean never, trust what you read on the internet Artie,"

I laugh, sadly "yeah, I learnt that the hard way, if I knew I probably would have told you first, anyway, my dad, as you can guess, wasn't so happy about this information, and he started going mad at me, saying I was one of Lucifer's sons, and a disgrace," I leave out the part about him hitting me several times, since I felt like that would be too much information "and he convinced my mum I needed a reverse trade, because homosexuality is apparently a mental defect,"

"... That's... horrible..." He sounded completely lost for words, so I carried on.

"Well, the problem was, I couldn't get a reverse trade if there was nobody willing to dentate their life to me, so it was unlikely I would have been able to go through with it, but..."

"but?"

"I suppose it was my fault," I sat back, by eyes had started to well slightly at the memory "Nobody was supposed to tell me what a trade was, that was before we got all the lessons about it at school, and out of frustration I asked my brother,"

I had almost forgotten I was talking to anybody, it felt like I was reading over one of my old diaries out loud.

"You mean Allistor?" he asks. Being my friend, he knew everyone in my family. So be it, at that moment he didn't know the one I preferred to belong to, but he knew my blood relatives. Near our last years of primary school, when we started to feel a bit older and fooled ourselves into thinking we were mature, he started saying how he hated everybody in my family except for me. Keeping in mind, the boy had been there when my father had lost his temper with me time, and time again, it was a reasonable thing to say too.

"yeah, him," my voice breaks slightly "he didn't like how my father was treating me, so when I asked him he went against the rules and told me... in detail, everything about the trades, you know, the stuff teachers don't teach you.

"he was found out, of course, and my farther punishment to him was to make him trade his life for my, well, heterosexuality... the weird thing is, he didn't fight back... anyway, so we did the trade, Allistor basically traded 70% of his life willingly, just to make a point. Then, two years later, he died." my heart sunk at the words, and my voice broke. Stubbornness started to puppet my body, telling me I didn't want to tell anymore, and so I stayed silent until Alfred spoke again.

"I'm sorry. I should have been there for you..."

I shook my head, furiously, as tears started to taint my face "No, don't apologise, just... give me a minute."

and he did, so I carried on once again, with a sigh to clear the darkness building up in my chest "He blamed me for it, my farther, and said he didn't want scum like me in his house any longer. I found my self shrugging and walking out, giving up trying to please him, and I spent the next few days sleeping on a bench in the grave yard, begging Allistor for forgiveness. That's when my new mother found me.

"she was the wife of the man who conducted my trade. I found out later they had been trying for a baby for a long time, and I offered, stupidly, to be their new son, and they... took me in,"


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

I should probably explain what happens to the people who get excessive and reduced 'sanity'.

In my case, I have 70% too much sanity, which can be referred to as excessive psychorate, surprisingly; this has no negative effects to my mental health. Well, I do think it made me dull and boring, as to be expected of a A* student who was the school president, but that's about it. All it really means is that I'm able to cope a lot better with traumatic experiences. My father thought this would correct my sexual orientation and- it didn't, but that shouldn't really surprise you.

Actually, this whole incident created a decrease in trades being used in religious situations, since the local news papers started posting articles on Allistors death. In other words, the only bad thing was that I lost my brother out of it. That said, the smile he had while the doctor pierced his skin with the needle, and removed the source of his mental wellbeing, was actually like he wanted it to happen. But, that was my brother for you, going to serious extents like that to make a point.

Then there's Alfred. What most people misunderstand about reductions is that they don't really make somebody insane. It's not like you just walk away from a trade with a personality disorder. It creates this state of mind my mother calls 'type two deficiencies'; this means that they are more susceptible to show signs mental illness, without actually being under the effect of a mental illness.

The best way to explain it, is with these examples. Imagine every time you look in the mirror, you see something you hate about yourself, and then you go cut yourself without a second thought. Somebody hints that you're eating a little too much; you starve yourself for a week. You have a nightmare; you won't be able to sleep for a month. It's that sort of thing, and anybody with less than 65% of their type two- a decreased psychorate- will go through this until they can retain the 'sanity' they lost.

This is what Alfred was going through when he started calling me every day, asking me to tutor him. Okay, it seems harmless, but he became borderline obsessive. It went on until he got an A in a test, and then he chose something else to obsess about. What I want to talk about is the time I decided he was calling me way too often, and decided to offer my services in person instead.

"Alfred, should I go to your house after school?"

At this point the rumours about us had escalated to an all time high, but nobody bothered with them anymore, so I had just approached him while he was in the middle of his little group of friends while Gilbert seethed in the back ground, claiming I was replacing him for a ditsy popular.

Everyone around him turned to look at me, jealously tanning their faces. "Huh? I need to study after school though," he replied, not seeming to care what the others had thought of him, but, in his state I doubt it was that. What I mean is, if he thought anybody was judging him or I for being around each other, we would probably very aware of it, since people with a decreased psychorate tend to be a little... violent, to say the least. Maybe, rather than not caring, he simply forgot the facade he played for a moment, as he tended to do in my presence.

I sigh, letting my eyes roll over every perfect person whose stare bore intensely in my direction "that's my point, Alfred, you're always calling me for help, so I was thinking I would be better help to you in person,"

I had also wanted to be around him more, because I had a slight feeling that we were slowly becoming friends again, and I really wanted that. Of course to everybody else, and probably the boy himself, we were already quite close; I had just got this idea in my head that I needed to earn him back, that I had to work for his friendship.

But, there was this thing that happened whenever I was around the lad. I felt as if, by all means, I shouldn't be there, talking to him as freely as everybody else did. Thinking about it now, I see that I was pretty stupid for thinking that, since I both knew him better, and longer, than the rest of his friends. That said, there had always been this little flutter that appeared in my stomach when I let myself enter the boys presence, a feeling like, when you read over old conversations between you and a loved one, you know the one, it makes you smile so hard your face hurts.

Anyway, he just shrugged in reply, dismissively, and said "Alright then, you alright with going mine straight after school, or would you need to do something first?"

All of the members of the monarchy all gasped in chorus, I'm sure their faces where that of disgust, but at that moment light was shining through the misty window so brightly it was blinding everybody but Alfred from my sight. I shake my head, both at the boys question and his friends reactions, my eyes watered slightly from the sun.

I think for a moment, before replying "No, my dad is at work all day, so I never really need to be home,"

"Okay then, we've got last lesson together, so I'll see you then,"

The rest of that day isn't really that memorable, just a blur of lessons and faces I've forgotten in my time away from school. At dinner I think I spent my time in the library with Gil bugging me, asking about the latest rumours about me, but that's about all I can recall until the end of the day.

* * *

For winter, that day had been pretty warm and sunny, looking into the sky you could have already seen the outline of a crescent moon. So when the bell rang for the end of the day, each and every sweaty, tired teenager quickly swung their bags around their shoulders and rushed out of the doors. It wasn't long before I had been the last in the room, apart from Alfred who had been waiting for me.

"Come on lazy ass," he had ordered me, sitting up on one of the tables close to me "you're the one who wanted to come over,"

I scowl "Excuse me if I don't like having a messy bag," I say this while clicking my leather satchel to a close. Stubbornly, I then headed for the door as if I hadn't even noticed him waiting for me.

The walk to his house was pretty idle, full of light hearted banter and us complaining about the heat, until Alfred nudged me with his elbow as if to warn me that he was about to destroy the happy atmosphere. I'm making it sound worse than it is, to be honest, his question wasn't meant to catch me off guard. He even asked it in a throw away manner, like you would do talking about the news you had heard that morning.

"You know that conversation we had a few days ago, the one about your dad?"

I really should have seen it coming, after spilling my sob story onto him and hanging up after the moments of silence that came afterwards. Though, with him calling me regularly the past few days, it had become nothing but a tiny shadow at the back of my brain. I became stiff at its mention, either way, but carried on walking so that he wouldn't notice.

"Y-yeah... what of it?"

"Am I really the only person other than your family that knows about... uh, the way you swing?"

Though relaxing slightly, but, even it wasn't actually the subject I had been dreading, I'm pretty sure I went the brightest shade of scarlet you can imagine, I probably matched the orangey red sunset that hung above us. That was something that had been swept away with all of my thoughts the past few days, with the way he reacted when I first told him, it had become something I thought he would never mention.

Now a few steps ahead of him in our walk, I answer awkwardly "um. yes? is that... a problem?"

"No, not at all, it's just... well, forget I said anything, we're nearly there."

I had gladly let the subject fall, not aware that it would re surface a few hours later.

"Arthur! You're visiting again?" Matthew was, surprisingly, down stairs when I walked in with his brother. He had been watching what seemed to be a documentary on the tv, with his farther sat beside him, harbouring an expression which crossed between grateful and dull simultaneously as he glanced to us, slowly. Cautiously, I nod, remembering what had happened the last time I was there, assuming that the family of Alfred still weren't aware of his seemingly lost urges.

Beside me, Alfred beamed "yup! He's helping me study!" he said it in a way that made it sound like he was announcing an award. Even back then, I had caught the pride in his voice and the spark in his eyes, and looked at him in deep confusion, before Mathew spoke up again and threw away the thought entirely. I think, if I would have followed my thoughts that day, I may have realised how much of a safety blanket I had become for the boy, and maybe, I would have made a bigger effort to keep him safe.

"So, you guys are getting close again? I'm glad, you're about the only decent friend Al has,"

I smile warmly, understanding his comment whole heartedly "Thank you Matthew,"

"Hey, what's wrong with my friends?"

At this point my legs had become tired from the long walk me and Alfred had just embarked on, so I leant back on the wall I had been stood by. Doing so gave me a better view of the boy beside me, as he began ranting to his brother how 'amazing' his friends were and how the quieter of the two was just 'jealous' of him and his popularity.

Strangely, the sight of him caused me become lost in the words being spoken, and I began staring as if in a dream. Even now, if Alfred and I were to fall into an argument, sometimes I lose track of what I am saying, because of the look of sheer determination which covers his face, in the form of a wobbly lip, tensed eye brows and eyes full of beautiful light. When he has this look, I find myself memorized, to the point where my mind draws a blank.

And so, when Matthew had addressed me a few moments later "what do you think Arthur?" it felt like being torn out of that drowsy state before sleep with a buzz of caffeine.

"About what?" I ask, flustered, rapidly twisting to face him.

"About Al's friends, they're just a bunch of fakes, aren't they? Nothing like the people a 'hero' would befriend,"

Without thinking much, as I was still confused about why I had become to drawn into Alfred's appearance, I reply, with clumsy honesty "I suppose so, they don't seem to really care who they're friends with as long as they're popular." I turn to face the taller boy "Unlike you, Alfred, you don't care who it is as long as they're nice, well... you don't care anymore,"

He looked taken back for a moment, probably unsure if what I just said was meant to be a compliment or not "what d'ya mean, anymore? I never cared if my friends were popular,"

As to be expected, I didn't believe him much, but wasn't prepared to retaliate as I was afraid of pushing him away in his already worked up state of mind. Sensing this, Matthew, who was obviously on my side, decided to fill in the gaps for his brother in his usual hushed tone of voice.

"What he means is," he pauses, maybe rethinking his words "well, why did you and Arthur stop talking?"

"I don't know, I guess we just focussed on different things,"

"Right, he rightfully focussed on studies, where as you focussed on...?"

"Uh, social skills, I suppose,"

"Exactly, so, if Arthur tried to talk to you while you were trying to climb that social ladder, would you have taken as much notice as you would have otherwise?"

Alfred went silent, making me feel guilty. As much as I never held it to him, I had always blamed him, in a way, for us becoming distant in our years of high school. When Matthew said all this out loud, pointing it out to the boy his own mistakes, I had realised part of the reason I didn't regard us as friends, was because I didn't believe the other wanted to be friends.

I had, as was said, attempted talking to Alfred as he met his new friends, and, though not completely ignored, I had been shrugged off like the dust on an old notebook. Right then, I could see how Alfred was recollecting this fact, regret was almost showing clearly on his face and, it made me feel sorry for him.

I almost wanted to just speak up, and say 'it's okay, I had Gilbert, it's not like I was alone', but that slight part of me that blamed him was sitting on my shoulder, keeping my lips sealed shut as I stare at the dark swirls on the wooden floor.

"Well." Alfred started, after what seemed to be a year of unbearable silence "how about we go up to my room Artie?"

I nodded obediently, and he started heading to the stairs. Before following him, I turned to Mathew and said, in a stage whisper "Thank you, I'll see you later,"

* * *

When we got into his room, my first instinct was to ignore any urge to search around for razors, and plonked myself onto the end of the bed where he had sat cross legged. Paper was strewn across his thick navy blue quilt, each and every A4 sheet covered in messily wrote letters inked in black. Letters were all knitted tightly together, like a heap of knots, but I could still make out the words I had spoken to him the previous night, like I had been dictating my words rather than calmly answering the questions he asked me.

It unnerved me, seeing it all, but I remember smiling slightly and brushing my thumb over a sheet, thinking 'does he really value my words that much?' before shaking my head, to throw away the thought as soon as it entered my head, not trusting myself to follow the thought track.

Then Alfred said, out of nowhere as I was admiring his work "I'm not gonna' start a conversation about it, but I want you to know,

"I wasn't ashamed of you back then, or anything like that, so don't think for a second that's what it was... " he takes a deep breath, as a tinge of embarrassment orders my eyes to shoot up to him, "I was just trying my best to make people like me, and, the thing is, I knew you already liked me,

"But then, I think it was like... four months into the school year? Geez, I'm an asshole, anyway, I realised, when I saw you with Gilbert one dinner time, that I hadn't talked to you in ages, like, a super long time, so I went to talk to you, but you both looked at me like I was a stranger,"

Then that weird flutter in my stomach returned, it felt suffocating. With a clog in my throat, I interrupted his little rant "I have never treated you like a stranger Alfred,"

He looks to his hands, which were bunched together as he fiddled with his thumbs awkwardly "Well it may not have been on purpose, hell, you might not of even been looking at me, but it made me think 'oops, I can't talk to him, he won't want me to, I bet he hates me,'" as he finished, his voice began to crack, like he was on the brink of guilty tears. To somebody else, this may have been reassuring, flattering even, but to me, it just built that sickly flutter in my stomach which was, at that point, making me feel slightly ill.

Clutching my stomach in frustration, I lean forward slightly, so that I could see the deep blue that were the ocean he called his eyes "Alfred, look at me," it was an order, which he obeyed after a few seconds of consideration, "There's never been a moment where I hated you, I've been pissed off at you sure, mostly when you let you're so called friends use you, but I get pissed off with everyone so that's a given," I purse my lips slightly, letting my gaze waver "A-and you could have talked to me whenever you liked! Bloody hell..."

I don't have a clue what he was thinking, I don't even know what I was thinking at the time, but his reply was to blink at me for a few seconds, and then let a huge grin erupt, destroying the unsure and tear jerking expression he helf a moment previous "You know, I said I wouldn't become a conversation, heh,"

"Whatever," I reply, slightly annoyed, sitting back "Just… I never hated you okay? Or I wouldn't be here right now,"

That was how the only conversation we had about our broken friendship came to an end. We may talk about it again in the future, when we've matured enough, but the closest thing we got to the subject in our recent years, was when we're reminiscing about our time spent in high school, in which one of us would say 'I wish you were there when it happened,' or something alike, triggering this awkward little silence to fall between us.

But, whatever, I'm not talking about that at the moment.

We decide there's no reason to go on, and proceed to the actual reason for my being there. I tutor him the things he missed from his intellect, and he records my every word down, to even my 'ums' and 'ahs', onto a fresh stack of lined paper.

This continued with an unbroken routine, apart from the odd bathroom break, ending with me looking up at the boy and noticing his drooping eye lids, and the blue rings under them.

Then I remembered something I had been took note of while staring at him previously, when talking to Matthew. His skin had paled slightly and his very essence screamed exhaustion. And so, mid sentence (I had been explaining the nth term to him) ceased talking, and instead, grabbed the pen he had clenched between fingers.

"The hell?" He had exclaimed, jerking his head up to look at me with furrowed eyebrows.

I put the pen on the bed beside me, leaning on it so that it was trapped beneath my palm, and asked in reply "how long has it been since you slept, Alfred?"

Obviously not expecting the question, he blanks for a moment, before looking to a wall adjacent us which was scattered in pictures of comic book heroes and movie posters. He now sat with his shoulders curled in towards his body, his hands stuffed between his legs and head hung low "I'm not sure... few days ago... why?"

Shocked, I shook my head in disapproval "I gave you those bloody sleeping pills for a reason Alfred," pause, as I wonder what to say next "well, go take one now, I, as the student council president, can't have students fainting at school..." That was my way of telling him I was worried, and I think he knew it too, judging by the small smile he had, even if it was barely visible. Thing is, I didn't want to let him know I cared, don't ask me why, maybe I thought it showed weakness or looked girly. So, when I say that little smile, I pouted in aggravation and looked towards the door.

There was a shuffle behind me, the sheets I was sat on were tugged slightly as he said, sounding defeated in a somehow mocking tone of voice "Alright," before standing up and walking to his desk. I hear him fumbling around in a draw he had pulled open, searching for the little bottle of tablets I had given him a couple of days before, it was making a rather loud racket, making me wonder what else was in that draw, before he found it and made his way back to me.

This time, the boy sat slightly closer to me compared to before, as he popped a white pellet from the bottle onto his left hand and into his mouth.

I blinked "I didn't mean right away, I meant after I left, Jesus Alfred!"

He shrugs, grinning slightly "But you said now, shoulda been more clear, huh?" he then looks away, grin fading "A-anyways, please stay! Just for a while, Artie, I... keep having nightmares, maybe if you're here..."

I was ready to say no, glancing at my watch to see it was twenty to nine, until I saw the actual fear on his face, along with a slight red tint on his cheeks from his request. The flutter returned, no surprise there, as I sighed, hating my self for giving in to him "fine. But only until you fall asleep, I have to go home at some point."

And then he exploded into a grin- and the flutter in my stomach grew into a storm- as if he didn't actually expect me to agree.

"Thankyou-thankyou-thankyou! you're awesome for a moody asshole Arthur!"

Of course, much like I was hiding my care, he was hiding his compliment, and I knew that... but I still hit him several times.

* * *

Remembering that night got me wondering what made Alfred so scared of falling asleep, so I asked him. It took him a while to remember it, since that occasion probably hadn't made such an indent on his brain, as it had mine, but after a bit of my prompting, he sat back in his chair and mumbled 'oh... that' and it was more than clear he remembered.

After prying a bit more it became clear that he had been having a reoccurring dream, much like I had been having, about a moment in our childhood. Surprisingly, It had been something I had forgotten about completely, so I sat patiently listening as he explained.

You see, Alfred and I had been somewhat of troublesome children. Even though our houses were huge, and the gardens even bigger, whenever I went to sleep over at the boys house, we climbed over this huge iron fence that surrounded the Jones's residence, to gain access to the forest that painted the behind of the house. In that forest we used to do a heap of idiotic things, such as jump over this little river that parted the emerald green stalks of grass that covered the ground, or climb what we thought to be the 'biggest tree in existence'.

Anyway, we did stupid things, things all kids do at that age, but there was this one time, when we were trying to balance while tip toeing down a fallen tree trunk. At the time we were about the same height, unlike now where he is about half a foot taller than me, so all he had to do to look me straight in the eye was twirl around on his heel, and do some badly balanced backward walk. The boy, at the age of five or so, flashed me a toothy grin as I tried extremely hard not to fall. It must have been showing on my face how hard I was concentrating, because I remember feeling like he was laughing at me.

'hey, hey Artie!' he yelled 'hey! let's play hide'n'seek!'

I had considered for a moment, before nodding and leaping off the log, onto the muddy ground. We had this weird arrangement between us back then, that because Alfred was the 'hero' and so was 'better at seeking', I was always the one who hid. While we had been searching through the wonderland of the woods that day, I had found this hollow tree that had struck me as perfect to hide in, so that day in particular I was really happy that I got to hide.

Then, without another word, he covered his eyes and began to count silently, and I ran off in the direction of the tree. The space inside it had seemed a lot more spacious from far away, so when I had tried to fit in, it had been like I was doing a real life jigsaw. Eventually, though, I squashed in every little limb of mine, even if it resulted in a few splinters had to tug from my skin afterwards.

And, surprisingly, it worked, Alfred must had not seen the tree like I had, because if he did it would have been extremely easy to find me. My problem, though, was that I must have hid a little too well, because by the time he found me, the sky had tinted burnt orange. Alongside him was Matthew, they both harboured an expression of panic, which bemused me at the time. Apparently, it had been two hours since we began our little game, and in worry the poor boy had gone back to get his twin for help. During this time, I had dozed off a couple of times, so I had no idea what time it was.

When they found me, though, Alfred had tugged me harshly from the space I was cramped in and pulled me into his arms, gripping me tightly. He then said something that was really odd to me at the young age I was. 'idiot, idiot, you're an idiot Arthur! don't go where I can't find you! stupid! idiot!'

Not knowing what to reply, I just stayed tired and limp, taking the opportunity of the embrace to stock up on the heat I had lost from being outside for so long, and snuggled into his neck, mumbling an apology even though I didn't understand what it was for.

Obviously, to me, that time wasn't a big deal. Sure, I understand why I had caused a problem now, but back then I just forgot it ever happened just a few days later. Thus, why Alfred had to explain the whole ordeal to me again. Anyway, the point is he had been getting nightmares about it, although in his nightmares he hadn't found me, or sometimes, apparently, he did, but I had slipped and fell into the river and, well, drowned. Quite morbid situations for a childhood dream, unlike my nightmares at that time, which had been pure and simple memories.

* * *

Anyway, back to the night he had asked me to stay with him until he fell asleep. It had only just been registering in my head how different Alfred's condition was to how I originally viewed it. Even back then, I knew more about the trade business than your average 16-or-so-year-old, but I had never been around somebody in his condition. So, try as I might, I had not been as good support as I hoped I was, and I knew it too.

This time, though, the very act of being with him had seemed to make him feel better. As his eyelids began to drop and he started slurring something sleepily, I smiled and collected the pages that coated his bed, not expecting the pills to work so fast. Then, I felt something warm lean against my shoulder. A glance revealed Alfred, resting his weight onto me, his eyes shut peacefully.

I think I made a really high pitch noise in surprise, before silencing it with my spare hand and cursing myself for nearly waking him up. The flutter in my stomach had escalated to an all-time high as I considered what I should do. The easiest thing, of course, would have been to slowly ease myself away, and replace my shoulder for a pillow. The problem with that was, every time I tried to, he groaned slightly as if he was about to wake up, and the last thing I wanted was for him to wake up and not sleep for the next few days until he actually did faint.

So, call me an idiot, because that's what I am, but I decided the best thing I could do was let him sleep, and stay there, hushing him back to sleep whenever he showed any sign of waking. I messaged my father- thankfully I kept my phone in my side pocket- saying that I may not be home that night. That was about it, too. I think I managed to get the TV on, which probably ended up in me watching a cheesy rom-com on or two.

At one point Alfred's father walked in, I had blushed slightly- I know that because of a mirror strung up next to the door- and tried to explain the situation to him. The man smiled and nodded, before leaving.

But, all that is of no importance. The fact is that I stayed, back stiff so that Alfred wouldn't slip off my shoulder, in the same position until four in the morning. By then I was tired, very tired, and my limbs had started aching, along with my eyes.

I was really close to falling asleep myself, when I felt movement beside me. There was a sleepy groan as he began fidgeting, and I heard him slur my name.

Hearing this, I stilled, even more so than I already was, and looked at him cautiously. His eyes were still shut peacefully, his breath still deep and steady, his cheeks still softy tinted pink in a candyfloss pink, he was still asleep. Sighing in relief, I begin my attempt to lull him back to the sleepy haven he had drifted from ever so slightly, problem was, it seemed as though he did not want to go back. Instead, still seemingly asleep, he removed his head from my shoulder, and instead rested it on my lap. Unsure of what to do, I re positioned myself so that I was more comfortable, and put a hand on his arm awkwardly.

"Arthur... the trade... it didn't cure you did it?" it was mumbled through barely open lips, so much that it was barely coherent, and I could only just make out the words. He was sleep talking, I told myself, as I nervously glared down at him.

Subconsciously, I stroke his arm with my thumb, and reply in a stage whisper "what do you mean by cure?"

Surprisingly, he replied, as if we were having a normal conversation "mh... you said... you're dad made you do a trade... because-"

"Oh, that!" I felt my face heat up "of course it didn't 'cure it! it's not a mental illness..."

I had raised my voice saying that, out of embarrassment, and it seems he had been sleeping so lightly that it was enough to raise him from his rest. Of course I felt a pang of regret, and cursed myself silently as the boy blinked away his sleep, and looked up at me. "Artie...? ngh... my neck hurts..."

"hm. well, it would wouldn't it?" was all I could think to reply, dropping my hand from where it had lay on his arm "other than that, are you feeling better?"

He nods "Yeah, more rested... what time is it?"

I glance at my watch and read the time, grimacing slightly, I answer "Ten minutes past four, in the morning,"

It took him a while to react, probably still slow from waking up, and he just tilted his head to the left in confusion "Eh? why are you here then...?"

I cough, flushing slightly "well, you fell asleep against me. And I didn't want to wake you up, so..."

It stays quiet for a moment or two, before Alfred erupts in laughter "are you kidding me? you shoulda just kicked me off you!"

"Damn it, you're obviously suffering from insomnia, I didn't want you to bloody pass out or something, so excuse me!"

His laughter dies slightly, leaving him just chuckling with a grin plastered over his face "Yeah," he nods, looking up at me from where he still lay in my lap "we wouldn't want that, would we?"

I grumble, before letting the whole ordeal drop.

* * *

**A/N**

**Thank you to Roxypratt for following, faving and reviewing! as a thank you, take an internet cookie~**

**Do you really think it's like 2p hetalia? hehe, I suppose it is quite similar.**

**I shall update with the last chapter of part one on Friday! until then, see you later!**


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter five

Something I had noticed was that Alfred used to act completely different when he was around other people, than when he was with me. That is nothing close to an understatement, either.

Maybe it's because of the knowledge I held of him that forced him out of his little stage act, as by this point he was well aware that I knew about his trade. I guess that could have made him feel more comfortable, as I was letting him be how he wanted to be. Though, it was obvious where he gets his place in the monarchy from, when I used to see him with his friends, or in the middle of a baseball game. Because there was this aura, this fake gleam, radiating off him, every time he smiled or laughed or even spoke with his eyes full so of life.

Then, there was when he thought nobody was looking at him.

It happened sometimes. Let's say somebody makes a joke at his expense, not intending to upset him or anything like that, and then everyone laughs. Then maybe someone would extend the joke, and eventually, everybody would have forgotten Alfred was even there with them, and there would be jokes flying about left right and centre. Nobody notices, then, nobody but me

As I've mentioned before, I had always kept an eye on him, and this was even more true after that time at his house. So, I always saw how that grin, the gleam, fades slowly, breaks down until he is sure none of the populars are looking at him. Then, he would get this look on his face, a look of almost shame, and he looks to the ground, his chin tucked into his neck, between rounded shoulders, as his lips are conflicted between a smile and a frown.

It always looked, to me, as if he was trying not to cry, as if he was claustrophobic and everyone around him were as good as closing walls, like he was close to throwing a tantrum and giving up on everything and everyone, including himself. Every time I saw this look, I would ready myself, just in case it was the time he would completely lose it, and I told myself I would run after him, and maybe hug him tightly as he sobbed.

Then, there's what he was like around me. Whenever we were alone, he would lose that dumb façade of his, and his smiles would be warmer, the royal aura dimmed to the point that it was almost non existent, and he would act like a total dork.

I, for one, found this side of him absolutely stunning.

Now, this may seem like I'm being big headed, as if I'm trying to tell you that just me being there made Alfred Amazing. My actual point in telling you this, though, is to try to show you the extent that holding his trust had affected me. It's obvious that I don't like to show my 'true feelings' (as Alfred once put it), so, maybe he never realised all of this. Maybe he never realised how, every time he annoyed me, to the point where I would hit him over the head and call him a 'stupid prick', no matter how hard I scowled, or cursed at him, I was truly happy.

Maybe, he never realised that I was happy, whenever he was happy.

yes. I know that is a major cliché and I hate myself for using it, but it's true, and there is no other way I can think of describing it.

So, leading off on that, I think this is a good time to tell you when I first realised my longing for friendship between me and Alfred had developed into a full blown crush. I say 'full blown', because it should be clear to all of you, that this 'flutter' I had been experiencing, was, to some extent, linked into my feelings for the boy. Of course I was aware Alfred was attractive, and he was a brilliant person, a 'hero,' as he would put it, but that's the thing, up until the moment I'm going to tell you about, those two qualities about him had been nothing but an acknowledgement on my behalf.

* * *

Since, this is actually something I've thought about a lot, I would say, it started one night- one of the nights where Alfred calls me up in what I could have sworn to be a desperate attempt to ruin my sleeping pattern. Anyway, I had become used to these calls at night, with Alfred being a borderline insomniac and such, so the noise of my phone ringing was nothing big. I had just groaned myself awake and answered the phone just in time, as always.

What struck me as odd, though, was the fact that I could hear wind and chirping in the background as I answered his call, and heard him say "Hey Artie! sorry for waking you... again,"

To myself, I shake my head contently, while massaging my forehead with my fingers "No, no it's fine Alfred,"

"Good, I hate that I'm such a bother to you..."

"Don't be silly," I reply, honestly. Surprisingly, his calls did not bother me in the slightest, in fact, I liked them. With two foster parents who are always at work, it got slightly lonely being the only one who lay in bed at night, so I had come to think of this nightly call as something somewhat similar to a bedtime story, as childish as it sounds.

I practically hear his beam, and it was slightly infectious, before he says "If you say so Artie, so, what kind of dream did I drag you outta? Eh?"

"Be fucked if I know," I reply, focusing on the background noises of his call rather than the subject he had just pulled up from thin air "probably something stupid. Forgive me for asking, but where are you, Alfred?"

Through the static of the phone, I hear an aggravated breathy sigh "why do you ask?"

"Because it sounds like you're outside, and it's... three in the morning," I answer matter-of-factly, pausing to look at the digital clock of my phone.

He chuckles, in a way that presented itself as being completely fake "you got me, smart as always Arthur! Aha... this is probably going to sound weird though,"

"oh?" I raise an eyebrow, sitting up and stretching, my phone lodged between the crook shoulder and neck.

"Yeah, I'm kinda outside your house right now."

* * *

He wasn't lying, either. Just five minutes later we both sat in my room, as he studied every inch of the space with a cat like smile.

Since nobody was home, I easily ran downstairs to let him in. To my surprise, when I swung open my door in a sleepy, flustered mess, what I saw was the boy in a fluffy all-in-one, decorated in the American flag, which now had mud spattered up the feet and legs. Which, to be honest, was fine, since I had been wearing one with the British flag. The point is though, he had been wearing his pyjamas outside, and that, in my books, is not good.

We hadn't said a word to each other, either, as if turning up at somebody's house at three in the morning was that most normal thing in the world. And then, when he had his eyes focused on one of the paintings I had done the year previous, and hung up proudly beside my bed, he said "My parents have been fighting,"

I blink, confused as to how he could say that with the content smile he had plastered across his tanned face "You're mother is back?"

Absentminded, he glances back at me "Did I not tell you?" I shake my head, and he continues "Aha, sorry, well, she's back, recovered from her cancer, I should hope so too, she had 50% worth of my own life to combat it,"

This was one of those rare occasions that Alfred spoke with the bitterness of the coffee that he drinks so much. It surprised me- even scared me, to some extent- to the point that I felt speechless, and for the first couple of minutes after this comment, I just sat blankly, scouring my mind for a reply. In the end, I settled on saying "She is your mother, Alfred, and it was your choice to conduct the trade,"

At that, he shrugs, and looks up to the ceiling, by now I have noticed how the boy is avoiding eye contact with me, looking everywhere except for my eyes, my face, me in general.

"I know, and I love her, it's just..."

"What?"

"... Like I said, my parents have been fighting,"

Another uncomfortable silence. Maybe it was too early in the morning, and neither of us had tuned our brains in the right way for a conversation, but I definitely didn't like the atmosphere that night. Time and time again, I found myself unable to find a reply to the boy, and when I couldn't, he just stared at something, smiling for some reason I really couldn't get my head around.

Aggravated, I bite my lip, and pull my knees towards my chest "If you don't mind me asking, what were they fighting over?" To some extent, I already knew the answer, but it was clear Alfred wanted to tell me himself. So whenever he left a gap for a question, no matter if the answer was extremely obvious or not, I would ask it without a second thought. That's just how it was between us. If I tried to act like I knew everything like one of his old popular friends, or if I acted like his own personal therapist, it just wouldn't work.

"Well, dad accused mum of being the reason I hadn't been sleeping, she's the reason I've been acting depressed lately, he said, she's why I... look at the knives 'that way' whenever I'm in the kitchen... A-And then, she got really angry, saying things like 'well if you were any decent husband you would donate your life to me, instead of making our own child do it,' and stuff like that,"

I swallow, hard, before shuffling over to his cautiously, in attempt to bring him into a friendly hug. Just like any other time I had hugged him before this point, he just leaned into me, not bothering to return the sign of affection, just sitting there, like a stuffed toy. I let his heat bleed into me, nesting my chin in the arch that linked his neck and shoulder, closing my eyes as it only felt natural to.

I had planned to say something empathic, to calm him down, but to my surprise, he spoke again.

"You know why they're both stupid, Artie?" he says this in a way that makes it sound like he had just had a moment of clarity, while remaining like a doll in my arms, leant back into my chest, not waiting for my reply "Because they're only thinking of the bad side of this whole trade business,"

Bemused, I furrow my eyebrows in thought, lifting my head slightly "what do you mean?"

A lovely chuckle falls out of his lips "I mean, we wouldn't be friends again if I hadn't gotten a trade, and I think," he pauses to shake his head, which makes his hair tickle my cheek "god this is going to sound sappy as hell, but, I think that you're friendship is worth all of my tired nights, and every time I do look at a knife and... you know, all I need to do is think 'what would Artie say?' and I suddenly don't need to do it anymore,"

I'm sure he could feel how hard and fast my heart was pounding, because I could even hear it. Subconsciously, I had gripped him tighter than before "Jesus, you bloody moron, that's the nicest thing anybody has ever said to me," was all I could manage to choke out, muffled into the fabric covering his shoulder "ever."

Taking a deep breath, he raises his hand to cup mine "Aha, I'm glad, but don't get too used to it..."

"Do you want to stay here for tonight?"

"...could I?"

I nod, sitting back and grinning "But don't get used to it,"

* * *

As I said previously, I had always seen Alfred as an attractive boy, it's just, by this stage I wasn't sexually attracted to him. Be that as it may, the next morning as he changed into the uniform I had lent him, since it was a school day, I had been expecting to see a row of neatly compacted muscles, tanned and defined, running up his stomach, as well as a thick padding on his upper arms. Not because I had been fantasising about him or anything, it was just an assumption I made because of all the sports he did.

Subsequently, I had not even been paying too much attention to him when I saw it, I was just packing my bag full of all the text books I needed, and by chance, glanced up. What I saw, was a shirtless Alfred, and how his skin had began to cling to his ribs and other bones, there was definitely not a single muscle there.

"Alfred," I had become accustom to dealing with things like this, so I had said, no questions involved "you need to eat,"

He looks down at the floor, as he began to button up his t-shirt "I do eat,"

Clicking my satchel to a close, I scowl slightly "obviously not enough, due to the fact that I can clearly see your bloody ribs," I swing my bag over my shoulder and look over to him, he's finished buttoning up the t shirt I leant him, it was a little small as Alfred surpasses my size, even though I am older than him by a year. He grumbles something I can't quite comprehend, and so, without thinking much I ask "did you say something, Alfred?" which makes him look at me, blankly.

"I said, I can never satisfy people, can I? Before I was 'fat', and I 'overate', and now I apparently under eat? Which one is it, Arthur?" pausing awkwardly, he spreads his arms out to punctuate his point "Also, do you mind not looking at me when I'm getting changed? It's frickin' creepy,"

Now, I can see that he didn't mean anything harsh by it, he was just pointing out two things to me which had bothered him, because he thought he could do that, as I was one of the only people who he could talk to like that. Back then, though, being called 'creepy' felt like he had delivered a full on punch to my stomach, in my mind, this had been directed towards my sexuality.

It wasn't, of course it wasn't, if the factor of me being gay actually bothered him at all he wouldn't even have gotten changed infront of me, or slept in the same bed as me the previous night- he had wrapped himself in a blanket so that he looked like a slug, and plopped himself beside me because the 'floor was too hard' and was giving him back ache- but that thought never really ran through my mind until later that day.

As a result, I stared at him, hurt, I'm pretty sure my eyes were threatening to water, un sure on how to reply to such a comment. It really wouldn't have bothered me too much, if he hadn't of said such nice things to me the previous night. It doesn't make sense, but I thought we had become closer again, because of what he said about our friendship, and then, in my mind anyway, what he said that morning was an attempt to insult my sexuality, the thing that had caused my father to hit me many-a-time as well as practically killing my brother.

Swallowing the lump that had developed in my throat, I swiftly turn away from him and grab my phone, which was on my bedside table, muttering bitterly "I'll go make breakfast."

On my way out, I heard him say "A-artie! I didn't-"before the door slammed behind me.

* * *

I'm glad to say, that morning there were no insults of my cooking. No, they started later on, in America. This had been the first time I had actually cooked for the boy, and due to what had just happened, I guess Alfred was Inclined to both gorge on every last bite of the all English breakfast I had tossed onto his plate (I had made it extra large, too, because even though he had hurt my feelings, I couldn't help worrying for the boys health), and try his best not to get onto my bad side.

I caught his sour faces a few times, and how he always looked down at the plate as if it was covered in alien gloop, but he had still cleaned it clean and even asked for seconds. Though, this did not quell the hurt I was feeling, it did make me feel slightly better, as it was clear he was not enjoying it, and yet he still tried his best to eat.

He coughs, and goes to take a sip of his coffee, when I say "You know, you were never fat."

He just looks up and me, and back to his food "Okay."

* * *

Really, these two moments weren't ones that made me want to go up to him and kiss him, but I felt I had to tell you about them for any of the following information to be of any context. Otherwise, you wouldn't understand how we stood with each other when all this happened.

I also want to make it clear, not one official moment was the one that made me fall for Alfred, it was a whole flurry of different moments. His words, his actions, the way he looked at me, they all stuck a cord with me, but it never really... clicked, before this.

Anyway, neither of us had thought about it, but, walking to school together sure got the rumours running wild. Gilbert was practically laughing his ass off at all the posts on the school website, and how we were now classed as the schools new pair for 'fuck buddies'. You can imagine my reaction to all this, yes, that's right, I wanted to stand up and punch everybody in the face. The normal reaction of a teenage boy, of course.

At one point, Francis looked in my direction and gave me a knowing wink, which made me want to throw up, naturally.

Alfred, though, just ignored it completely. Whenever somebody walked up to him and asked him about it, often scowling in my direction, he just blinked at them, before walking off to talk to somebody who wasn't accusing him of having sex with me. This left me to pick up the pieces, and explain to this person that we were in no way in that sort of relationship.

You can probably guess for yourself, how on that day I was not the most liked person to walk the halls of our school, but it would probably surprise you the extent that this hate went. I think this was around the time we were coming to an end of our time at school, we had around one or two months left before high school was over for good, and so it wasn't on a long time scale that all this had been happening.

One day, I had stayed late after school, since I had a student council meeting. What that meeting was about, was of no importance, nor do I even remember it. Something I do remember, though, and quite vividly, is how out of nowhere, a group of teenagers from our school had surrounded me, and then, without a word, began beating the living hell out of me.

I'm not a weak person, no, but when you have a group of seven or so, crowding round you eagerly in attempt to kick or a punch you, resilience tends to be futile. So, whenever this happened, and it happened a lot in my final weeks, I would shrivel up into my shell, waiting in a teary mess for it all to be over, before limping home and waiting for my mother or father to return and inspect my wounds.

I can't say any of this was happening because of Alfred, or because of the homophobia at my school, but I did know I was the only one out of the two of us receiving the punishment. Putting on a layer of foundation everyday is, to a point, rather humiliating for a male, or at least for a male who would like to keep the appearance one, but I had to do it. It was clear I was the only one doing this, because Alfred's skin was a tan colour that no foundation or anything alike could copy.

How does this all relate to me developing a crush on him? Well, here is the thing. Due to a one hundred present fault of my own, me and Alfred had been, yet still hanging out and calling each other- well, rather him calling me at silly o'clock in the morning- there had been this feeling that hung in the air, that made it so our conversations were much more awkward.

And I do blame this on my stupidity that morning, where I had stormed out of my room before letting the boy explain himself. Due to this, Alfred had stopped coming to me with his problems as much, and was looking desperately for a way to re pay me, when he didn't need to.

The problem was, I had no way of proving he was doing this, so I couldn't turn to him and say 'hey, I forgive you, now stop being a dolt,' as I knew he would deny him doing anything like it. A positive, though, is that he had listened to my advice and started eating like he had done previously, which, to anybody else would, in fact, be over eating. But trust me when I say this- Alfred has the fastest metabolism of any one I have ever met, and I'm in the health branch of work.

Anyway, as you would expect, eventually Alfred found out. It was in the last week of term; Alfred and I were eating together at lunch, with Gilbert and Elizaveta. We were all laughing about something he had said about one of his popular friends, and in all of his enthusiasm he accidentally knocked my cup of water all over me, revealing a huge bruise that ran down my arm.

Nobody noticed at first, until I grumbled and swore through my teeth at the realisation that instead of the pale white it was supposed to be, my arm was a blackish-purple. Only then, did everyone look at me in silence.

"Woh, artie, where the hell'd you get that?" Gilbert said in awe "It's fuckin' huge,"

Then Alfred grabbed the arm to inspect it, causing me to cringe in pain while replying "Ugh, I'm not sure, it must have been when I fell over the other day," I glance at Elizaveta, and ask "do you have any pale foundation? You see, I don't want too much attention for it,"

She nods "Yeah, I have, I'll get it," before reaching into her handbag, which was lodged between her and Gilbert on the bench they sat on across from us.

Beside me, Alfred seems to have gotten a good enough look at the wound, and squeezes his hand over it, making me yelp in surprise. He then gets a tissue from his pocket, I expect him to clean the water off the bench, but instead he lifts the thin white paper to my cheek, and wipes an extra layer off, revealing a gash.

"A-Alfred? What are you doing?" I ask, yanking back the arm he still clutched in his other hand to cover my cheek.

"You didn't fall over, did you?"

"I did. It was just a pretty bad fall, that's all, Elizaveta?"

"Don't lie to me, Arthur, who did this to you? Tell me." He says this fiercely, as an order.

"I swear Alf-"

Then he stands up, and storms off, leaving the three of us alone. I have no doubt that if I would have been honest that day, nothing would have changed. The only difference would be the fact that he wouldn't look back at me, like I had broken the trust we had.

As if nothing happened, the girl switches places so that she sits beside me, and squirts splodge of peach tinted liquid onto my arm, before rubbing it in and commenting "It's obvious that you're not a professional make-up artist, Arthur, you can still see some of your bruises through the foundation,"

My gaze is still fixed in the direction Alfred had gone "where do you think he's going?"

"who knows?" Gilbert asks nonchalantly "I must say though, your acting skills suck Arthur, nowhere near as awesome as mine,"

"Fuck off," I scowl.

"Seriously, Artie, if I wasn't sure that he could personally kick the shit out of whoever did that to you, I would have gone with him to help," he laughs slightly "really though? You fell over did you? Hah,"

I turn to look at him, an overwhelming rush of panic washes over me, even though I don't show it on my face "what do you mean, kick the shit out of them? Jesus Christ, how would he even know who did it?"

The girl beside me hisses from my jittery movement, so I steady myself to make her job easier.

Gilbert clicks his tongue "See! You're that easy to find out! Okay, let me guess, it was a group of his friends, right?"

"... yes,"

"If I can guess, he's obviously gonna know then, isn't he?"

I bite my lip and stay quiet, as Elizaveta moves on from my arm to the cheek that Alfred had unmasked a minute earlier. I didn't even know the names of my attackers, but I did recognise two of them from the time in the classroom when they were discussing Alfred's trade. I knew most of them classed their selves at the boys close friends.

Anyhow, as I mentioned quite a while ago, people with Alfred's condition, a low psychorate, had the tendency of being violent. And that's how, around half an hour later, the people who had attacked me had all ended up outside first aid with more cuts and bruises than they had give me on the many occasions they had hit me.

And Alfred strolled up to me, with a bloody lip and black eye, and said in a joking tone of voice "guess I'm not the king anymore, huh," before being ushered away by the teacher I presumed to be the one who broke the fight.

It's weird, yes, not romantic at all, he beat the crap out of a group of his own friends. Thats the thing though, he did it for me. Like I said, he had been searching for a way to make it up to me, I knew that, but it never truly solidified to me why he actually wanted to make it up to me.

He cared for me.

Thinking that he got himself excluded, hurt and kicked out of the place he had spent all of his high school life building up to, that was it. That was the moment that flutter in my stomach made my heart race, and brought tears to my eyes.

It was always there, I know it, and you know it, but this was the first time I actually realised. As I watched him walk off, blood matting his hair, I found myself wanting to chase him.

Too little too late, though, as that was the last time, for a very long time, that I would get too see the boy.

The way I found out that he and his family were moving to America, was when Matthew came to my house to say his goodbyes, thanking me for how I had been there for his brother. He seemed surprised when I hadn't had a clue as to what he was talking about

I suppose that's why they call it what they do, because when it happens, it's like somebody crushes you under their boot and kicks you to the side, like the insignificant piece of trash you feel you are. I had a crush on the boy who was once my childhood friend. And he slipped through my fingers once again.

* * *

**I frickin hate this chapter... I've re-wrote it so many times and I still don't like it... bleugh.**

**Okay, right, so Roxypratt! This is not the first fanfic i've written, but it's the first one I've posted, I think the first fanfic I ever wrote would have consisted of 'He sat down. He looked up. He said "Hello" to the person sat in front of him.' and really basic writing like that... but thank you anyway. This really is not a creative plot, its just a basic love story with a dystopian back ground, if you think about it, and im sure you can think of something 100x better than it!**

**SO this is the last chapter of part one, part two will be based in College and ect ect... well. I better get writing!**


	6. Chapter 6

Part two. Chapter one.

**"**_Our wounds are often the openings into the best and most beautiful part of us." _

_― David Richo_

The other day, I found myself flicking through the old e-mails that me and Alfred exchanged through our time in college and university, and smiling. Although, when the boy himself walked in on me when I was grinning like an idiot, glaring down at the computer screen, he cocked his head to the side and asked "are you watching porn or something?"

I threw a rolled up magazine at him.

The reason I like reading over those messages, I suppose, is because it reminds me that, no matter how much I had thought I had lost the boy, again, he still kept bounding back to me. I can't lie to you all and tell you what you want, that on the day he left to go to America I ran to the airport and pulled him into a kiss, whispering a demand that he should never leave my side, because how cliché would that be?

No, no, on the day he left for America I was at college, getting my introduction to the world of psychology. Plus, even if I did do that, I'm pretty sure I would have wimped out of it the moment I saw him. So, yeah, no big heroic love confession on my side, and don't expect there to be one later on. Like I said, too, he had stopped talking to me after the little incident that made me fall hook line and sinker for the boy.

It would have been to simple for me too have gone to his house and ask to speak to him, because that's just not how humans work. If we feel as if we are not wanted, we do not push our luck, because no matter how brave we seem to be, we're all terrified of what will happen, what's in that black abyss we call the unknown? What would happen if we just reach in there, and take a look around?

Probably nothing, but I was never one to risk it.

Instead, I just sat at home all through our holidays, rocking back and forth like a mad man with my phone clutched in my hand- maybe I'm exaggerating it, since I have a perfect mental health- wondering if he was okay, if he was still eating, if he still looked at the knives and strayed away from them because of... me.

There's nothing else to say really, so let me tell you about the first time I opened my e-mail to see a message sent by an address I did not recognise.

* * *

_From: You're-hero_

_Hey man, wazzup? :D_

* * *

The first thing I noticed, was whoever they were -somehow, I couldn't quite figure it out, I must have been more naive than I like to think- had used improper grammar in their E-mail address. Unless, they wanted to actually say 'you are hero' which makes little sense, what they should have wrote was 'your-hero', but whatever, that was just one of my pet peeves that I never quite got over.

Second, they were talking to me as if they knew me, which caught me off guard, since I had all my contacts memorized in the little safe in my head, and this one was not familiar. So, in the middle of my sociology class, I typed my reply.

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_From: the-gentleman-Arthur_

_Do I know you?_

* * *

Which got a reply almost instantly.

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_Awe man, don't pretend you forgot me already, I only left last month! :P_

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_Alfred? Is that you?_

* * *

At the time, I had been writing an essay which had been due in at the end of that week, I had been pretty determined to finish it on time, and had only opened my emails to receive a reference Gilbert had claimed to have sent me (he hadn't).

But when it clicked, when I realised who it was, my heart beat had become distractingly fast and my palms had become sweaty. The text I had been writing for the essay, had an unfinished sentence, and all I could think to do was watch that little line as it blinked beside the words I had typed a moment previous.

A rush of bitter sweet rage had washed over me, I wasn't thrilled that he had e-mailed me, I was pissed that he had the nerve to do so after ignoring me, once again, for such a long time.

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_You got it Artie! S'me! The one and only hero!_

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_Oh, yes, hero indeed. Excuse me Alfred, but I am busy at the moment._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_Too busy to talk to me? Eh?_

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_Shockingly, yes. And if you do not explain to me why you didn't tell me that you were moving to America, I will continue to be busy whenever you e-mail me._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_Oh, so you're mad at me?_

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_One could say so, yes._

* * *

I sit back in my seat, frustrated that I couldn't concentrate on my work with this new information in my mind, the thumping of my heart against my ribs, and then, another e-mail, and I immediately jump forward to see what it said.

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_I'm sorry, Artie. _

_It's just, because I got excluded, ma' said that I couldn't talk to you anymore. She didn't let me go anywhere until we got to America, took away my phone, too... I only just got it back. I mean, I knew that she'd forgive me an' shit, but you know, it really did suck not being able to say goodbye._

_I should have been a rebel and snuck out at night to see you, shouldn't I? Haha, Imagine how pissed off mum would have gotten though XD_

_Anyway, I know that doesn't excuse me much but, I hope you forgive me! Cause' you know, I'm super popular in America and everything but... well, there's nobody like you there. Still, I get if you're pissed off, I would be too._

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_You are a bloody moron, you know that? Of course I forgive you, since your exclusion was my fault, your mother had the right to do what she did. It sounds quite harsh, though; did you not explain why you started the fight?_

_Speaking of the fight, I also want to let you know that it did indeed help; no body went near me after that day. That said, I really wish you wouldn't have gone to such an extent for me. I did not ask for your help because I didn't want anything to happen to you, how exactly you overpowered so many people while returning with nothing but a bloody nose and a few scratches I will never know. _

_Really though, do you not understand how you demolished everything you spent your high school life working up to? _

_I do forgive you Alfred, but I also think you're a complete Wanker sometimes._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_Aw shucks Artie, you sure know how to make a boy feel special. Is calling me a moron your way of saying 'I forgive you Alfred never leave me again oh-so-amazing hero!', cause that's what it sounds like!_

_Right, where to start. My exclusion was NOT your fault, I was the one who choose to go and teach a lesson to those little shits, you really do need to allow yourself to be helped sometimes Artie. Jesus man, if I hadn't of done that, they could still be targeting you, so be grateful instead of feeling guilty will ya? :D_

_I did explain it all to my mum, but... I don't think I worded it correctly, heh. _

_They were easy to beat. They were scared of me, if you actually tried fighting back I'm sure you would have been able to win. Or not, I dunno. Anyway, there was one of them, I think it was Ivan, who managed to get a good few punches in when I was least expecting it, but the hero always prevails! Hahaha XD _

_You mean my popularity? Dude I don't give a flying fuck about that anymore. Why do ya think I started hanging round with you and Gilbert at dinner times? Because I realised how my 'friends' were complete assholes! Woo! Took me long enough XD _

_If I'm a wanker, what does that make you? King of masturbation? I'm friends with royalty! ;)_

* * *

_To: You're-hero_

_Oh haha, hilarious Alfred. I'm glad to see you're feeling well enough to mock me, next time I won't forgive you, see how you like that hmm? But you do speak some truth; I guess, just take out the 'oh-so-amazing hero' part and replace it with 'asshole'._

_Since when did you get deep and meaningful? I'm truly touched that you think of it that way, but I'm afraid I can't help but feel guilty since I was indeed the one who caused this whole mess. I should have just gone to tell a teacher, or something along those lines, but I allowed my pride to get in the way. So, whether or not you're willing to except it, you have my whole hearted apology._

_I do, although, feel grateful, so do not miss understand me. I just wish I could have handled the situation without dragging you into it._

_What do you mean you don't think you worded it correctly? How did you word it, Alfred?_

_I do not agree when you say I could beat them, trust me, I tried. But you always did have abnormal strength, even as a child. There was that one time when you picked up a lad four years older than you, just because he bet that you couldn't, do you remember that? I was pretty awe struck at the time, I think I got you to give me a piggy back on the way back home. Slightly humiliating to think of that now, but oh well._

_ I do think you're right when saying the hero always prevails, though, even if calling yourself hero is very egocentric. In this situation I suppose you were actually the hero who saved the day, but don't let me saying that get to your head._

_You're bloody right it took you long enough, I suppose that means you're not putting on that dumb act you always had in your college? If so, I'm happy. Being yourself, rather than 'golden boy' will earn you less friends, yes, but the friends you do get will be the ones who support you through anything and everything. Those friends are the most valuable._

_And piss off. Seriously, king of masturbation? How crude do you get Alfred?_

_I'm supposed to be doing my work right now... I suppose that can wait till later._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur _

_Haha! Oh Arthur, you're making me blush ;) So you really care for me that much eh? Well I guess I am pretty damn lovable! Right? I know I'm hilarious, too, no need to state the obvious. _

_I've always been deep and meaningful! It's just you don't relies it because you're too busy being all well and proper and boooorrrinngggg._

_You honestly do not need to feel any guilt, it's not like you asked me to go off in a little tantrum and do it XD you did not cause the whole mess at all. Stop being stupid, you're supposed to be the smart one! You got straight A's didn't you? And here you are, feeling guilty because somebody went ahead and took your problem into their hands WILLINGLY. Geez, it's like you've never been helped before._

_I'm glad that you at least have the sense to feel grateful. _

_Oh, uh, when she asked me why I 'hurt those poor boys' I just scowled and said they hurt you and what goes around comes around, and then sulked off into my room... Maybe I should of handled it a bit better, who knows? XD_

_I do remember giving you a piggy back ride home, but not picking anybody up. Are you sure you're not just so embarrassed about the memory that you had to create a reason for it? Haha XD didn't you fall asleep on my back or something? I remember you falling asleep on my back, dude. Funny how you left that out, isn't it? Haha_

_Hell yes I was a hero! Finally you admit it! If my damsel- that's you by the way- is ever in distress I shall rescue her within moments! Because I am the most heroic hero of all time! _

_I'm not making the mistake of befriending a load off butt-faces again. I have made a few good friends, mainly a Japanese boy called Kiku, he's all quiet and stuff but when you get him talking about something he's passionate about he can talk your face off. I get what you mean, too, it's a lot better having fewer people to talk to, feels less isolated in a way._

_But you're my best friend! So don't think I've replaced you Artie! He he_

_I'm not crude, you're the one who called me a wanker, thought you were a gentleman? Do I need to wash your mouth out with soap young man?_

_Dont worry, I'm supposed to be getting ready to go college but I'm just sat at my computer in my undies XD_

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_Oh don't get too happy, of course I care for you but that doesn't mean anything big. I care about Gilbert too, you don't see him getting all giddy about it. You are definitely not lovable, Alfred, sorry to burst your bubble, you're absolutely irritating and I have no idea why I like you so much. It really is a mystery that will go unsolved for years to come._

_I don't see how being proper is an insult, so I should probably thank you for the compliment. Boring as I may be, I still have you as a friend, so I can't be that bad, right?_

_Fighting about this will get us nowhere, Alfred, just accept the fact that I feel guilty because it's not going to change. I may not have asked you to do it, but I didn't ask you not to, either. So no matter how you look at it, it was my fault to some extent. It's not like my guilt is hurting anybody, so why make such a big deal about it? _

_Well I'd be stupid not to be thankful, its thanks to you that I'm no longer walking around slathered in the palest foundation I could find. That is a feat, if nothing else. _

_Forgive me, but I think I'm not your mother's biggest fan. Calling them poor boys? Even if you didn't give the best explanation, she should have understood they did something that made you rebel against them. Also, you are quite right for saying what goes around comes around, so I commend you for that._

_No you definitely did pick somebody up, it escapes my brain who, but you did. They bet you about ten pounds for it, so you were bragging about it for days afterword._

_I left that out because it was not relevant! It had been a long day, so what if I fell asleep? Your back must have been comfortable._

_Didn't I say not to let it go to your head? I am in no way and never will be your 'damsel' so you better go find a new one. Not your new friend Kiku either, by the sounds of it he's a nice lad and I don't want you bothering him with any of your extended fantasies. And why must you refer to me as 'her?' playing gender roles there, are we Alfred? Not very heroic of you._

_I received a few odd looks by laughing at loud after reading 'butt-faces', so thank you for that. I'm glad you're making close friends, I've not made many myself, since Gilbert and Francis both go to the same college as me I haven't had the need to. But you have always been an attention magnet, so it doesn't surprise me how quickly you've befriended people._

_I'm your best friend? Oh, well how flattering of you. I'd never thought for a second that you would replace me, because there's nothing really to be replaced is there? I do return the statement though; I could never replace such a little ball of energy now, could I?_

_Excuse you; I don't need my mouth washed out at all! When need be, I shall not swear, but since you insist on being a prick I cannot help but show my potty mouth._

_Get dressed Alfred, at the very least._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur_

_Kiku told me a word for people like you. Tsundere, I think it was, it means somebody who's all mean and cold but secretly cute and sweet on the inside. You're denial is just so plain obvious it hurts, one minute you want me to never leave you again and the next I'm 'absolutely irritating', which one is it Artie, huuuhhhhh?_

_Thats right! I make up for every little bit of boringness you have! That's why you need me! I am the source of anything that makes you interesting. _

_I'm sorry if I'm going on about it too much, I just really don't like the idea of you feeling guilty for something I did. It really isn't your fault; I wouldn't lie to you about that, Artie._

_So you don't wear makeup on a daily basis huh? Sucks, I was imagining you applying bright pink eye shadow and lipstick in your spare time because it made you feel pretty, oh so pretty._

_I forgive you, dude, my mother hasn't been the nicest person lately. It really confuses me, too, after what I did for her. I mean, it's a given that if a family member is going through something like that, you have to trade, but still, I don't mean to sound like an asshole here, but it seems all she's done is give me shit for it. Like, she thinks I beat them up for fun, because of my deficiency. That kinda gets on my nerves, you know?_

_What goes around does come back around, it's a given, nothing more to say. I guess with how nice you've been to me- as nice as a grumpy Briton can get anyway- you're gonna have something awesome happen to you! Can't wait can you? He he._

_Sounds like me, but whatever, s'not really important whether or not I picked a random person up anyways. What matters is- YOU FELL ASLEEP ON MY BACK! Aw, imagine that happening now? The amount of beating off you I would get for it? XD my back is like the most comfortable thing ever, my cat always sits there when I'm asleep, scares the shit outa me when I wake up though._

_I didn't let it go to my head! I just stated the truth, I am the most heroic hero of all time and you can't prove otherwise!_

_If you're not my damsel, what are you? My side kick? Oh yeah that would be super frickin' cool! You could use your cooking as a weapon!_

_I have you know the definition- as Google tells me- of a damsel is 'a young unmarried woman', there for by logics you are a girl. Sorry Artie, can't fight with Google now, can we?_

_I just had the mental image of you snorting at the computer and then going into a giggle fit XD your welcome brah! _

_You should talk to new people, who knows, maybe you'll find somebody you liiikkkee ;)_

_Heck yeah your my bestie! Bffs for life! What do you mean there's nothing to be replaced? If we stopped talking again I'd be like 'oh noooooo' and then go on the hunt for the nearest moody teenager who looked like they should have been born in the 50's. Not that any would turn out to be as awesome as you though. And I would crryyy if you replaced me bro! I would be rolling around on the floor sobbing my eyes out! So you better not! XD_

_Well, if I'm a prick, at least I'm a heroic, handsome, super cool prick._

_I'll put my pants on if you do some work! :P_

* * *

_To: you're-hero_

_So you think I'm cute huh? Nice to know._

_You're irritating, and that's why it's so annoying that I couldn't live without you. Happy? Tsundere enough for you? I mean god, Alfred, that term is used mainly for bloody cutesy anime girls who like to beat the crap out of their loved ones. Look up the context of your words before you use them._

_Oh, yes, I'm sure you are my very source of entertainment._

_I suppose you wouldn't lie about something about that, we must both just view the situation on parallels. Well, can't be helped now._

_My deepest apologies, but I am in no means a cross dresser. But I am pretty. _

_Of course it gets on your nerves, but to be fair, she probably doesn't know much about trades other that what was printed out on a flimsy leaflet for her. I know quite a lot about the trades, because my brother explained it to me in a large amount of detail. It does not make you mentally disabled, or make you go off in any type off temper tantrum, it just makes you more... vulnerable to the world around you, forgive my wording. People seem to get it mixed up with instant depression, or something with autistic like symptoms, and it's not. It's a condition moulded to the world around you._

_Schools really need to teach children more about it, maybe then it wouldn't be looked upon as a disability, but rather a battle wound? Hm. _

_I have not treated you with anymore or any less kindness than that you disserve. But yes, if some good was to go my way I would be truly grateful._

_Why is my falling asleep on your back such a big deal? We were bloody five or something; it was completely normal behaviour back then! I would not let you give me a piggy back these days, so if you were to give me one it would be because you gave me one with force, so of course I would be inclined to hit you a couple of times. Just to be on the safe side._

_I am not being your side kick either Alfred. And I am not a bloody girl._

_I did not snort or get into a 'giggle fit', I just laughed out loud. A completely normal laugh which would come from any remotely normal human being. _

_What's with the winking face? What do you mean somebody I like? I have people I like perfectly already._

_Firstly I would like to say that 'bff' means best friend forever. So the sentence best friend forever for life makes no sense you dolt. _

_Secondly, I doubt my absence would have that much of an effect on you, but if it did I'm sure your new friends would support you through it. Moody teenagers aren't actually that rare, you know?_

_As long as you admit you're a prick, that's good enough for me._

_I am, actually, doing my work. Get dressed before I come to America and make you._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur_

_Oh yes Artie._

_You are the cutest damn thing that ever roamed the earth,_

_I just want to pinch your cheeks you're so kawai._

* * *

_To: You're hero:_

_Piss off you asshole_

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur_

_Ahahaha XD_

_Okay, so, back to the original e-mail huh?_

_Yes that was more than enough Tsundere for me bro. You define it as 'cutesy anime girl who like to kick the crap out of their loved ones'. By that definition, I can prove you are the biggest Tsundere ever._

_We already know you're cute, I just made that clear, but I can also quote some of your own words, 'I am pretty though,' you said._

_As for kicking the crap out of their love ones? SUCK IT! 'so of course I would be inclined to hit you a couple of times. Just to be on the safe side.' HYPOCRITE MUCH? XD _

_Also, I have you know it that it can also be guys who are Tsundere, and since you classify yourself as 'not a girl', this is critical that Tsundere can be either gender. _

_There you have it. Owned brudda. _

_Onto the more serious topic, I agree with you 100%. Though I do not like to admit it, this whole trade thing has actually made me more vulnerable to everything. Mum doesn't understand that, she thinks it's just made me a full on emo that will punch anything that gets in my way, why doesn't anyone know anything about the trades? It's not exactly taboo is it? I've actually seen the leaflet they give to parents of children with a deficiency, its literally called 'how to deal with the new side of your child,' What the fuck is that shit? There is no 'new' side to me, and I'm sure you'll agree._

_Battle wounds, huh? I kinda like that. _

_You do deserve some good, Artie, all you do is work hard and its like you never get anything back. Well, thats how it is, isn't it? The hard workers in our world are treated like shit. If I won the lottery, I would sure as hell give you half of it, maybe even more. I was treated like the royalty of school, and for what? Having shit grades and looking down upon people like you? This worlds messed up._

_The 'winking face' ;) was there because I didn't mean just like, as a friend, I meant like-like. When you get a boyfriend, you have to tell me man, so I can message the dude telling him if he hurts you he'll get a rather harsh beating from moi... not that I have anger problems or anything XD_

_A big heap of nope going your way Artie! I'm not just your friend because you're moody! Geezzzzzz, like you said, most teenagers are fucking moody! Stop pretending that you're replicable asshole ._

_So you agree that i'm heroic, handsome and super cool?_

_You will? Come on then, I'll see you in five minutes XD_

* * *

_To: You're hero:_

_..._

_How did you not get full marks on your English exam? What a throughout analysis._

_Fine. I'm a Tsundere. Whatever you say smart ass._

_On to what you called the 'serious topic', I do and I don't agree with you there, Alfred. I know that you have always had this side to you, but you never really showed it until after the trade. And then there's the part of you that... I'm not going into detail, but you should know what I mean._

_You should speak to your mother, explain all of this to her._

_Thank you for saying I deserve good, but so do you. Yes, you may have not been the most approachable person in the world back then, but you can't say you didn't to a whole 180 in the right direction. Your grades ended up being some of the best in our year, and you achieved that in such a small time period. I don't think I could have achieved that in my wildest dreams. And as well as that, you managed to see through societies idiocies that once blinded you, and instead made some real friends, that is a huge achievement Alfred, and one that disserves a reward._

_I actually do not wish to be in a relationship right now, thank-you-very-much. You could say, I already have somebody I 'like-like', but do not wish to pursue the feeling. Even if I did, you would definitely not be threatening them in anyway._

_Do I really mean that much to you? Well then, forgive me for thinking I was replicable, you huge dork. _

_I never said I agreed, Alfred. I just said I was happy as long as you agreed that you were a prick._

_And just get bloody dressed damn it, before your mother thinks I'm even worse of an influence._

* * *

_To: The-gentleman-Arthur_

_I got an A, I think I lost marks for spelling and shit though._

_YOU ADMIT IT! *dances in chair*_

_Do you mean the part of me that wanted to self harm? I hate to tell you, Artie, but that had been there for a long time before. I just kept it well hidden. So, the trade made more transparent parts of me more visible, I guess._

_I have tried talking to ma about it, but she never listens. Oh well, she can view me how she wants to, if it was to happen again I'm sure i would trade my remaining sanity to save her, still._

_I suppose you're right, I did turn everything for the better, but the difference is, I got you as my reward :3_

_My artie likes somebody? THEY GROW UP SO FAST! *glomps*_

_Okay but if they hurt you I'll break there neck! J_

_You obviously mean a lot to me, Artie, who knows where I would be right now if I didn't have you as a friend? I'd probably have cut up arms and still be reaching to be a popular kid. Ugh, I hate to think of it. And I'd be a skinny bastard, with shitty grades. It's not really hard to relies I've relied on you a bit too much, so really Arthur, you deserve something awesome._

_I take that as you agreeing._

_So you're not gonna come to America and dress me? Shame XD finneeeeeee, I'll get dressed_

* * *

_To: you're hero_

_Well off course you'd lose marks for spelling and grammar, you put the wrong 'your' into your email for goodness sake._

_Shut up about the damn Tsundere thing now would you, Jesus._

_Really? Oh Alfred, you should have told somebody. Even if those urges aren't too strong, having somebody to help you through it really would have been a huge benefit to you. I mean, to a point I'm glad it was me who got to help you, but still, whenever you feel like that tell anybody you trust, not just me. I'm not the only person who can help you. If you don't mind me asking, though, what made you feel like that?_

_I'm your reward? Oh come on now, that's just plain cheesy._

_I'm not even going to comment on the 'they grow up so fast' thing, but trust me, the person I like would not hurt me. I know that for sure. So you're not breaking anybodies neck._

_And I'm not going to comment about how that paragraph made me smile like an idiot. You would not be all those things you described, I'm not that much of a miracle worker, but I am glad you think like that._

_Right, I have to go now Alfred**, **have fun getting dressed._

* * *

To: The-gentleman-Arthur  
Oh shit. Well, you're hero makes sense right? ….right? Meh.

I shall never shut up about your Tsundere side, it is my joy in life.  
I didn't really have a reason. Just one day, I realised that, even though I was this really respected guy at school with tons of friends, I didn't actually mean anything to anyone… I put that a little weird, there are so many people on this earth and I'm just one of them, and the people I know don't even amount to 0.01% of this worlds population. I realised I had nothing that made me important and… my motivation dropped. I started feeling lonely in that massive group of friends I had, and I looked down at my work like 'what is this? Why should I do this if I'm just going to die one day?'… I don't know if it makes sense, but there's my answer.

I don't care if its cheesy, its true!

If they wont hurt you why don't you confess? If you trust them so much, would they really look at you any differently? Even if they don't return your feelings, which I'm sure they do! But hey, even if they don't, I'm sure they'll stay friends with you.

Dude, making you smile like an idiot made me smile like an idiot, god damn you.

I would be all those things, do you not realise? You stopped me self harming, you stopped me starving myself and you helped me study. I don't give a crap what you say, this isn't me trying to make you feel good about yourself, its me telling you the truth. Okay?

Oh yes, I'll have so much fun getting dressed. See ya Artie! ^^

* * *

**_Okayyy, thank you to that girlinthecornerfangirling (I love your user name oh my gosh) and 5leafed clover for following and favoriting! _**

**_and to my anon who names them self 'honhonhon' (france wth you doing here) ...DONT KILL ME THOUGH I'M NOT SURE WHAT YOU WANT ME TO FIX BUT I'LL FIX IT GOSH. I'm not THAT great of a writer, geez I've got a hell of a lot to go before I become an amazing writer, but thank you anyway, because you made my day mr/miss honhonhon._**

**_not all chapters in part two are going to be like this, so dont worry if you dont like this style. Next chapter may take a while because... darn I'm coming over with some hardcore writers block. Urm... please can I get a review? Just a little push to help me write is all... only if you want to though! :) _**

**_I'll see you next time! my aim is sunday, so hopefully I can get it done!_**


	7. (real) Chapter 7

**okay okay okay okay okay okay okay okay.**

**I did it. It is a fail, but at least it exists. **

**have a new chapter peasants!**

Chapter two

As to be expected. I had not seen my real farther for years at this point. It had become so I truly thought of my foster parents as my real parents, which was not so much as a bad thing, but rather odd. Since I had been with these people for seven years at the time I'm talking about, I suppose I was able to emotionally bond with them much like a child does with their real parents, but I had been with my real family for eleven years prior this, surely I would have felt even the slightest bit of emptiness from the void they left in their absence?

No, apparently. From the moment I walked out of that house I had never looked back, not once did I want to see their faces again. But there was one person I always visited, Allistor. His grave, I mean. Every Sunday, I always found myself sitting on the bench adjacent the curved stone engraved beautifully in my late brothers name, with a flower or two if I had the money. Its sad that I cant do this anymore, but we all have to move on at some point, even I.

Anyhow, it was one of these times, one of those Sundays, where I was sat on the blackened wood bench , lost in the coldness of the wind, that I saw him again. As I mentioned before, a while back, most people who attended my old high school were those from a wealthy background, and I was no different. My father was a priest, and my mother was a politician- odd couple, right?- who had both inherited all of their parents money. I guess that was why I was so surprised to see my father that day, dressed head-to-toe in filthy, ripped rags.

He looked at me, his eyes had heavy bags under them tinted an unhealthy blue, his whole face sagged and wrinkled in an un-shaved mess. When he saw me he did not react, just stared, no hate to his blood shot eyes, but certainly no love in their either. Then, he shuffled his way over to me, limping slightly, to plonk himself down beside me, sighing contently.

"shit weather we're having," he grumbles, keeping his eyes ahead of him.

Taken aback greatly, I try to fight back any of the rage that was trying to creep up my throat. My eyebrows were furrowed and my mouth agape, as if I was about to speak to him at any moment, staring intently at him. And I say "you can say that again." In a sharp, defensive voice.

Grunting, he shuffles on the bench, trying to get comfortable "I guess it's getting to that time of year. Hope it doesn't snow…"

"Dad." I ignore him.

"… what?"

"what the fuck is this?" I ask, sounding strangely calm "Why are you dressed like that, and why are you here-when I've never seen you at Allistor grave before- and why are you trying to talk to me? I hate to tell you, daddy dearest, but I'm still gay,"

He makes a muffled noise, like something was caught in his throat, and looked down at his hands. I kept my eyes steady, staring at him, waiting for my answer, ready to dismiss it by walking away once again if it was any sort of obvious lie.

"Well, well," his voice is scratchy "what a potty mouth you have developed son."

My eyes sharpen "you are disgusting. You know that?" and then I get ready to stand up and say my goodbye, before he speaks again.

"Your mother left me, soon after you did. Don't blame her… but, it left me with half the money I had previously. Less people started coming to church… because of the news publishing the article about your trade with Allistor, everybody started calling me abusive-"

"And they are bloody well right! You hit me, and you basically killed your other son, what man of god would do that?" I was eager to make him feel bad, even when seeing him in the rut he was. I have this scar on my hip, from one time when I was nine and got him angry. I think it was something to do with me and Alfred getting into trouble with one of the neighbours. Dad was drunk, and in his rage at me swiped a broken glass bottle towards me, if I hadn't have nudged out of the way, the cut would have been to my stomach.

Now, I was stroking that scar with my thumb, comforting myself that I had every right to be mad at him, and he saw this too "I want saying that I didn't… abuse you… I was just saying it ran my business to the ground… and now I have no money, at all," he says it in a rush, and punctuates it with a violent cough, before carrying on slower "I… just missed my son."

I blinked "maybe he wouldn't be dead if you didn't force him to trade with me," I sound unsure, because I still blamed myself for my bothers death as much as I blamed the other man. Slumping my shoulders, I feel a tear trickle down my cheek, but wipe it off before it could be seen.

He hums "Yes. You're right."

"you don't even feel guilty do you?"

Then he looks at me bitterly, like he would have done when going to slap me, but keeps his arms firmly at his side. I flinch.

"There is not a night where I don't see you boys in my sleep, Arthur. You're right, what man of god abuses his children? Even if you are gay… god wont punish you, I'm sure… he forgives all. Maybe even me…" it starts off as a strong statement before falling into aimless rambling.

I say, nonchalantly "god doesn't exist,"

"maybe."

It's odd, being brought up in a strictly religious environment, and then loosing faith. I suppose its equally as weird me being gay, after that one time when I was six. You see, I used to spend time with my dad at church, sometimes because he dragged me there, sometimes out of my own free will. It wasn't because of god or anything for me, though, back then I was a believer.

I used to like going there to watched the rays of light burst through the stain glass windows, and the now tinted streams dance together. Kicking my legs under the bench I would hum to myself as my dad preached something at his alter that I didn't quite understand at the age I was. I rarely got distracted from these daydreams, but there were a couple of times.

For instance, the time a man stood up in the middle of one of my fathers talks, and shouted in a pained sob "forgive me father, for I have sinned, I lay in my bed with a man, I loved a man," and he dropped back down and started begging "forgive me, forgive me, please… please forgive me,"

He was obviously highly religious, brainwashed to think any little mistake he had, any time he did something that he was not supposed to he would be cast deeper and deeper into hell. I was sat next to him, and his screech had jolted me, my heart was racing out of fear. Even though he had terrified me though, I reached my tiny hand to his shoulder and timidly said "it's okay, I'm sure he forgives you sir,"

But my touch make him recoil, and he slapped my hand away with some force. My farther got angry, really angry, but for once not at me. Not moving from his place, he slung an accusing finger towards the man and shouted "Don't you dare harm my son with your filthy hands, you damned sinner!" it was different than how he would shout at me- more, civilised? I think that's the best way to put it. He was in front of a group of people after all, who all had what they thought to be concrete morals, anything more aggressive than his little act would have caused the lot to stop coming to his church.

I don't remember the mans face too well, just that it was slightly tanned and the wrinkles had become bags, but I think the terror on his face at that moment in time had burned into my head. Although it seemed impassive, it was as if he had visibly given up on everything at that moment in time, he had broken down, I tried to comfort him once more, but he drowsily turned and walked off before I could say anything.

That memory popped into my head as I saw the same expression on the face of the man in front of me, the one who scrubbed me clean that night so that I didn't 'catch the disease', he had given up.

I groan, and turn to look him in the eyes "Look, I am never going to forgive you for what you did, for taking my brother from be, for caring about this fucking non existent…. Asshole more than your own family. But." I reach into my pocket and take out my wallet "here. Think of it as payback of all the years you provided for me,"

His eyes widen slightly at the sight of the fifty pounds I was handing to him- I had recently got a part time job, and was intending on using the money for new books- before he smiles and takes the money with a nod.

That night at around seven o'clock I video called Alfred, it was something we did from time to time, though we usually kept to e-mail. He answered right away.

His new room was a lot more grown up from the pig steigh he had previously, though it still had all of the things I deemed childish- the figures, the red white and blue theme, the bundles of mcdonalds wrappers in the bin- it was all organised in a way that formed the delusion that this room belonged to a mature adult. That said, most of the time when I video called him, including the time i'm speaking about now, he was laid down on his bed so I didn't get to see much of said room. Just him, his captain America pillow, and the red wall behind him; which was not necessarily a bad thing.

"Yo! Arite, whats the sitch?" He says with a grin and a playful wink.

My reply is to blink for a moment before shaking my head slowly, in attempt to mask the amusement I felt from the silly quote "Hello Alfred, good day?" I ask, nonetheless.

Nodding clumsily, he reaches beside him and a crinkling noise was made apparent, only for his hand to return full of crisp for him to stuff in his mouth "Yeah, it was pretty chill, yours?"

My fingers start tapping the ebony glass of the desk I sat at- the computer at my house was downstairs, but since my foster parents were almost always working I was free to use it at my will- the sound echoed like around the room like that of the shoes of a galloping horse, Clearing my throat, I picked my words carefully, for some reason not wishing to look like I called him to discuss the topic of my father, trying to seem nonchalant "Well, You'll never guess who I saw today," I say, not wanting an actual guess from him, luckily he complied and replied with a shrug "My father. The real one, I mean."

He seems to be a bit more on guard from that statement, sitting up quite rapidly on his bed and adjusting his laptop so I had a clearer view of his face, before saying "He didn't do anything to you right? I swear, if he did-"

"You'd what? send him an angry letter?" I cut him off, before sighing "he did nothing to me, he has morphed into nothing but a guilty tramp, by the looks of it he even lost his faith... I gave him fifty pounds,"

The confession seems to aggravate the other boy "You did what? why? he deserves to be a hobo!"

I could see a slight fury building in his eyes, and immediately regretted bringing up the subject "Alfred, please calm down," was all I said, with a slightly shaky voice, and he visibly did as I asked. His shoulders slouched back to what they were before he had stiffened them, and his breath deflated like a balloon.

"I'm sorry Artie, but... I don't know, knowing what he did you you, I just really don't want you getting hurt anymore, heh," his cheeks had gotten slightly tinted, and he slung an arm behind his neck. I remember thinking, 'what a dork', despite myself and the situation "I scared you didn't I... damnit,"

I blink in bemusement, tilting my head slightly "no? I just didn't want you getting too worked up over such a little thing. I mean, I definitely put him in his place so you don't need to worry about him hurting me,"

The conversation that followed consisted of me acting with the pride of a five year old, and Alfred sitting back and watching, throwing in the odd comment like "oh damn, you actually said that?" or "I wish I could see his face! I didnt know you had it in you!"

I dont know what it was, the fact that he got in a fight for me, or maybe that he seemed so concerned for me getting hurt, but I seemed to really want to prove that I could handle myself. I was recalling the events in detail, raising my voice at every curse word to make it seem like I had complete control over the situation. The smile he was giving me, back then I thought it was a proud smile but I realize now it was more amused, entranced in my random arm movements out of enthusiasm. By the end of it, I was rather embarrassed, to say the least, I realised I had just spent the last half an hour showing off to my crush like an idiot, and my cheeks became aflame.

He grinned at me "well, I bet he regrets ever treating you like shit,"

I return the gesture with a smile "yeah, he does... but, what comes around goes around, I suppose?"

I don't know how he did it, but somehow he had made a bubble of joy surface through the dried out anger that lined my stomach. This had become a habit of his, and I wasn't, I'm still not, sure whether or not it made me feel comfortable, but in the end it didn't matter, because as much as I wanted to cover up what I felt was an humilifying thing- getting happy over just simply taking to somebody- there would always be cracks in your mask. Such as that little twitch in the side of your mouth when somebody says something overwhelmingly humorous but you're trying to act as if your mad at them.

That day was the last time, till this day, that I saw my real father. Yet, somehow, I find it most memorable for the undying grin I had plastered on my face when talking to Alfred.

**_long ass A/N and review reply below. If you don't care about that sort of thing, I don't blame you, go get a cup of tea and relax instead of reading my shitty ramblings._**

******I wrote this chapter around five times.**

**Thats around... well, this chapter was 2,500 words (hurr chapters are normally 4,000 words hurr) so, lets say around 10000 words. for one chapter. This whole story so far is over 32,000 words long. what the duck, how did I do that? and yet there are many more chapters to go...**

**I was thinking of shortening this section since I'm finding it so hard and awkward to write, what do you guys think? honestly I don't think you are enjoying it much (totally not my fault for not updating for... two months? probably more. heh.)**

**thank you to everybody who followed/ favourited! (I think I should mention I am british so any U's in my words its just my country rlly likes U's... fanfiction tried to correct me, darn british-ist website... probably just spelling wrong actually)**

**krasavista****! first of all, I had to make this in England point of view, right? I mean, it would have made sense to do it in Alfreds but... [sweats nervously] **

**Also, thank you for sticking around with this fanfiction! **

**Amelia F**** Im glad you didnt hate the e-mail chapter (because I did hahaha) and the dorkyness is my favourite part of Usuk! :D**

**Roxypratt**** "****thank you a million times over for not making me wait a thousand years for a new update!"**

**... ahahahaha. In my defence, it was only two (+?) months, not quite a thousand years...**

**I did intend my naritive to be different, (but this hasn't been evident in the last two chapters) so I'm glad you mentioned it! I hope its different in a good way? As for your messy thoughts, THIS IS WHAT MAKES A GOOD WRITER FRIEND! you get those messy thoughts AND YOU THROW THEM INTO THE COMPUTER AND BE LIKE 'THIS TOOK ME TWO MONTHS' **

**(im afraid there wont be any kissing for a whiiiillleeee)**

**AND IM DONE. I SHALL RETURN IN ANOTHER TWO MONTHS ****(Im joking. Probably.)**


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